Mass Effect: Atonement
by survivor686
Summary: Set Between ME1 and ME2. Shepard is gone. Sovereign is dead. Ashley is not. Ashley fights to ensure her place in the Systems Alliance and to continue the legacy of Shepard's actions. Avaricious slavers and hostile geth remnants are lashing out at human border worlds and ships, but for what sinister purpose? Explore the meaning of the S-designation. MShepley implied.
1. Dramatis Personnae

**Dramatis Personae**

_**SSV Shanghai – Heavy Cruiser - Systems Alliance Navy**_

Captain William Murdoch: Commanding Officer of _SSV Shanghai_

Major Louis Proust: Commanding Officer of Hunter Company

Lieutenant Jeremiah Guo: Commanding Officer of Second Platoon, Hunter Company

Operations Chief Ashley Williams : Non-Commissioned Officer of Second Platoon, Hunter Company

Corporal Samuel Behari: Squad leader for Second Squad, Second Platoon, Hunter Company

_**SSV Ain Jalut – Stealth Frigate – Systems Alliance Navy**_

Captain Sasha Makarov: Commanding Officer of _SSV Ain Jalut_

Staff Lieutenant Jacob "Boss" Werner: Commanding Officer of Team Wolfpack

Private First Class Jagathi "Ozone" Gowda – Team Gunner

Private First Class Tomson "Jester" Wong – Team Biotic

Corporal Adrian "Archer" Henderson – Team Marksman

_**Systems Alliance Command Staff**_:

Admiral Steven Hackett: Commanding Officer of the Fifth Fleet, Head of the Joint Chiefs of Staff of Alliance Navy

Prime Minister Amul Shastri: Prime Minster of the Systems Alliance

Director Stephen Lang: Agency Director of Systems Alliance Intelligence

Fleet Admiral Samantha Smith: Commanding Officer of the Sixth Fleet.

_**Terminus Systems Mining group **_

Ravanor Kratok: Head of Red Star Mining Co. Survivor of Thesca Raids

Ravanor Urloc: Brother of Kratos. Currently wanted in connection with reported murder on Citadel.

Mobius: Unknown


	2. Introduction - Part 1

_I __HAVE__ a rendezvous with Death_

_At some disputed barricade,_

_It may be he shall take my hand_

_And lead me into his dark land_

_And close my eyes and quench my breath_

_I __HAVE__ a rendezvous with Death_

_And I to my pledged word am true,_

_I shall not fail that rendezvous._

_- Alan Seeger, __I Have a Rendezvous with Death, - _

_**2 weeks after the destruction of the SSV SR1 Normandy**_

_**Volantis Station**_

_**Border edge of Sol System**_

All things considered it had been a very beautiful ceremony. It was quiet, small and dignified. Comprised of only Alliance personnel, the non-humans in their crew unfortunately denied access, there were no more than twenty individuals. A few key officers that included Admiral Hackett, Shepard's mother, Joker (having managed to sober himself up) and herself. Too bad the body was missing.

Gunnery Chief Ashley Madeline Williams pondered this paradox as she sat at one of the few clean bars that were left on this station. She quietly nursed a bottle of beer, brewed from some colony at the ass-end of Alliance space. It tasted…inoffensive. She was still clothed in her Alliance dress blues, her beret still perched on her head. To any casual passerby she looked the very model of a formal Alliance soldier on leave.

A closer inspection would have revealed tired eyes, worn out from the constant tears. Her lips would have revealed a slight quivering that hinted to some deeply repressed emotion whilst her hands gripped the bottle as if it were her lifeline to sanity.

A large thud caught her attention and a quick glance to her right, revealed the titanic form of Urdnot Wrex who dwarfed his two companions Tali Zorah and Garrus Vakarian.

"Williams." The massive Krogan rumbled as he took in the sight.

"Wrex." She returned, as she got up from her table at approached the threesome.

Tali silently grasped Ashley's hands and Garrus attempted an approximation of comforting smile. Together the group moved towards the small docking bay where Shepard's empty casket lay.

A quick flash of her ID card, no doubt reinforced by the very large and powerful Krogan, scarred Turian and the lithe Quarian standing behind her allowed the group access to the now empty docking bay. Admiral Hackett, after some considerable lobbying from Captain Hannah Shepard, had allowed them access to view the casket before it was fired into the burning mass of the nearby star. _**We're born in dirt and die in fire**_**.**_** How very fitting…**_

Silence enveloped the group as they took in the empty casket that was Commander Shepard's legacy. The legendary N7 commando, the destroyer of the Geth, the saviour of the Citadel and the bane of Saren…and all that was left was an empty casket.

"Shepard is not in that." Wrex pronounced, as he gave the casket one heavy thump. The dull echo reflected off the walls in the bay, interrupting the gloomy silence. Ashley was too tired to complain about this offensive breach in funeral etiquette, so she settled for dejected grunt. .

"Keelah, what do we do now?" Tali finally spoke up, wringing her hands nervously. Garrus merely sniffed the air, as if he could divine what cosmic imperative fate had in store for them.

They never spoke again after the casket was fired into the sun. They all went their separate ways. Tali went back to her flotilla, Garrus went back to C-sec and Wrex returned to Tuchanka. A few messages were exchanged between them, but they never met in person again. The last she received was a terse message from Garrus, stating he was headed to Omega to track down a suspect.

Ashley never felt more alone in her life

* * *

_**4 weeks after the destruction of the Normandy**_

_**Citadel Station,**_

_**Zakera Ward**_

Ashley Williams woke up in a room that reeked of sweat, piss and worse. Cold metallic walls surrounded her and the ceiling had a recessed light-bulb that blasted harsh, white light over her surroundings. _Ah….the local C-sec drunk tank_. Not much of an improvement over her temporary quarters, but still it could be worse. She slowly raised herself to her feet and swayed slightly. A sharp lance of pain tore through her skull and she feebly clutched a hand to her forehead.

Vaguely she made out the form of a simple metal chair in the foreground and she tumbled towards it. After what seemed to be an eternity, she stumbled into its hard embrace. Exhausted by this monumental effort, she let her head fall onto the table. Sleep, yes that's what she needed.

But fate begged to differ and a recessed panel in the wall opened up, revealing a very stern Turian police sergeant. His cold eyes took in the pitiful sight of the hung-over human. With a determined pace, he marched into the room and deposited a package on the table in front of Ashley.

"10 minutes, that's all you've got." He growled, his eyes narrowing at the pitiful human in front of him. _The Councillor made an exception for her?_ "There's a fresh change of clothing and a stim pill, I _suggest_ you use it"

With that stern command, the Turian sergeant turned and marched out of the room, the panel closing silently behind him.

_Change?_ Ashley quizzically looked at the package before glancing down at her shirt. A disturbing mixture of blood, vomit and cheap rum stained her off-duty shirt, with one particular stain resting on top of the Systems Alliance Crest. _Dad would be sooo proud…_

Finally she reached out grabbed the pill and popped it into her mouth. Overcoming the urge to vomit, she swallowed it and almost instantly felt the caffeine hit her bloodstream. Hung over she might be, but apparently she had an appointment to keep.

Quickly and efficiently she disrobed, not giving a damn whether she provided entertainment for a bunch of bored police officers through the transparisteel windows. Within two minutes Ashley Madeline Williams founds herself in the dress uniform of the Systems Alliance Navy. _All dressed up for your court martial eh?_

Seconds later the panel opened again to reveal the grim sergeant one more. With reluctant wave of his hand, he motioned for her to follow him. They walked through a coldly lit corridor, past the other cells and towards another door. The sergeant punched a passkey into a nearby panel and they continued into the offices. Finally they reached inside a sparsely decorated office and she was motioned into a very comfortable chair.

Awakened by the stim pills, Ashley's mind raced through the possibilities of scenarios she faced. _Disturbing the peace, drunken and disorderly conduct? They wouldn't need the uniform for that. Investigation by Naval Intelligence? For what, punching a smug and superior Asari bartender? Court Martial? Meh…not that important enough._

Partly to keep herself from going mad, Ashley studied her surroundings. She was in comfortable, if rather simple meeting room. She sat at a rather ornate round table, made with what appeared to be rosewood. _Imported from Earth, oooh!_ She sat in a leather chair, which sank to a comfortable level. All in all, it didn't seem to an interrogation room

The door opened once more to reveal a new visitor. Instinctually she jumped to her feet and gave a proper salute. Hung over she may be, but her visitor deserved a salute.

Captain, no Councillor David Anderson grimly stared back at Ashley Williams. Every pore of his face oozed disapproval and with a dismissive nod he motioned her back to her seat. Truth be told, aside from a few interactions with the legend that was Anderson, Ashley never did interact much with him. No, most of the Alliance brass kept their distance from her, as if she were an infectious disease that would spread the stain of her family's dishonour. Though Anderson may have simply just been too busy to pay her much attention after recruiting her to the _Normandy_.

Anderson took a chair at the other end of the table and for a moment quietly studied the dossier in front of him. After what seemed an eternity, he finally spoke.

"Do you know why I recruited you to the _Normandy_, Chief?" His voice carried no censure, no vitriol. Just disappointment.

"To replace Corporal Jenkins, sir" she quietly responded, her eyes cast downward at the table. She would have preferred to have been yelled or even cursed at, rather than hear disappointment in that voice.

"No." Was the response, sharper in tone this time "If I wanted to replace a corporal I could have chosen another soldier, hell maybe even another N7. But I chose you."

Ashley cringed. A part of her always felt a little shame at her promotion by dead man's boots, despite Shepard's reassurances that she had earned her place amongst the crew of the _Normandy_. A reoccurring nightmare of hers was that were it not for Jenkin's death, she would have been left on Eden Prime amongst the corpses of humans and geth alike.

But now, it would seem that would be her destiny. In a way, it was like a nightmare come true. No, she would not…could not stand another crap groundside posting, not after what she had been through. She hadn't survived geth ambushes, enraged krogan mercenaries, insane asari commandoes, ghoulish husks and even Saren himself, just to get dumped on some colony at the ass-end of Alliance space. Not when the Reapers seemed ready to break down the galaxy's front door and commit systematic genocide.

"I saw _fire,"_ Anderson continued, unaware of her inner turmoil "I saw a Systems Alliance _Marine_, ready to take up the fight to defend humanity."

Ashley raised her head up at the last comment. If she was to be damned to a crap-posting, this was certainly an odd way about it.

"Perhaps it's partly my fault, perhaps it isn't." Anderson pushed forwards, aware that he had her full attention "What matters is what we do now."

With that he pushed a dossier across the table towards her. It was a rather simple, yet important document. It wasn't a shipboard posting like the _Normandy_, though she wondered how anything could compare to that ship. It wasn't admission to the legendary The Interplanetary Combatives Academy, though even she had to admit that dream belonged in the realm of fantasy.

Instead it was an invitation to attend the notorious Orbital deployment, Reconnaissance and Assault Academy, located on Benning. Renowned for its tough training and its policy of live-fire exercises despite existing in an era of tactile kinetic simulations, ORA academy was discussed only in hushed whispers.

ORA tested endurance, strength and agility. It demanded wits and fortitude. Only the truly stubborn or mad, even tried getting the S-designation. And Ashley had plenty of those in spades.

Anderson didn't smile or even show any emotion. He simply said,

"The transport leaves the Citadel at 0700 hours tomorrow. Take what you need."

With that he gave Ashley leave.

* * *

_**Codex Entry: Saren Arterius and Matriarch Benezia**_

_**Once a celebrated and honoured member of the Hierarchy and Council Spectres, the late Saren Arterius' name has become a source of shame for Turian society after the Battle of the Citadel. **_

_**When the full extent of Saren's betrayal to his species and Citadel was revealed and confirmed by the Council and C-Sec, the Hierarchy posthumously stripped the deceased Spectre of any ranks, titles or awards. In a rare public ceremony, the 14**__**th**__** Legion melted the Shield of Traxus, Saren's former medal for extraordinary service to the Hierarchy. **_

_**Corporations that once named the later Spectre on their board of directors, came under Citadel investigation for their alleged role in his betrayal. Already under investigation for their alleged role in rachni experimentation, Binary Helix saw its corporate office raided by C-Sec officers, eager to uncover the web of informants and investments that Saren had used. Though experts believe that the loss of Peak 15 will prove to be a hindrance to the investigation. **_

_**In sharp contrast the Asari Republics avoided many of the measures undertaken by the Hierarchy. Recovering her body from Noveria, the deceased Matriarch Benezia was buried with full honours in light of her respected role in Asari society. In a public statement, the Council of Matriarchs pointed out that Matriarch Benezia was never formally charged with conspiracy or treason. Whilst many have called for Thessia to unseal its records concerning Benezia's activities, the Asari Republic have resisted such a course of action, **_


	3. Introduction - Part 2

…_.And at the gates of heaven, to Saint Peter he shall tell a tale,_

_One more soldier reporting sir! I've served my time in hell,_

_Saint Peter will just smile and say you have served your country well,_

_And he ain't gonna jump no more.,_

_Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die,_

_Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die,_

_Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die,_

_And he ain't gonna jump no more!_

_- Excerpt from "__Blood on the Risers", sung by American Paratroopers during WWII - _

"_Madness, sheer madness and heavy dose of masochism."_

_- __Rear Admiral Sasha Illyushin, Commanding Officer of the __Orbital deployment, Reconnaissance and Assault Academy, on what makes a good pathfinder -_

_**4 weeks after the Destruction of the SR1 Normandy**_

_**The Worthless Pyjack Bar, **_

_**Tortuga, Nemean Abyss**_

Ravanor Kratok allowed a broad grin to play across his face as he recognized the individual in the bar. Moving his massive bulk forward, he strode towards the individuals, the denizens of the bar moving aside respectfully.

"Urloc!" He boomed, his arms held wide open as he recognized the stranger standing a few paces away. For a few moments the two brutal giants shared a hug that would crush durasteel before coming apart.

Kratok wouldn't admit it, but he was genuinely pleased to see his brood-brother. The two had been inseparable since Tuchanka, the only surviving pair out of their rest of their stillborn brethren. Fate had bound them together and when Kratok abandoned the radioactive soil of Tuchanka, his brother had followed him a day later, elders be damned.

The fateful decision made Kratok a slaver-magnate-billionaire. Together with his brother they had survived the cutthroat world of slaving and piracy. Eschewing the role of brute muscle or canon-fodder that many of his kind had embraced, the duo became one of the few krogans to own their own "business". Selling slaves garnered from raids on a hundred different worlds, they had evaded the vengeance of the Systems Alliance. His instincts had saved their hides from the turian patrols and he had wisely avoided the disaster that became the Skillian Blitz. His brother's skill with the shotgun had saved his throat whenever their rivals tried to backstab them.

Until the Theshaca Raids. Until the damned Alliance had tracked his vessels' exit vector and reduced his entire fortified compound into rubble. Until those cursed humans had stolen _his_ goods and set them free! The brothers had a falling out over that affair, Kratok trying futilely to restart his slaving business while Urloc left to find employment with the Blood Pack.

The last Kratok had heard was that his brother had been arrested on the Citadel over some rubbish concerning a dead asari hooker. He had always suspected that his sibling's weakness for those lithe blue skinned creatures would be his undoing and he had privately mourned his loss. But now thee fates had been kind to him and the two were reunited.

"Tell me, brother." Kratok queried, struggling to hide the emotion in his voice. It would be unbecoming for the elder krogan to break down in joyful tears, but damned he had missed him. "How did you escape the Citadel?"

"It was those damned geth, brother." Ravanor Urloc replied. Urloc may not have been as large as Kratok, but he was of a light foot and deadly with almost any weapon imaginable. "They massacred my guards as they swept through the Citadel"

Kratok nodded as he listened to his brother tell the tale of how he had barrelled through the Citadel, hijacked a transport and escaped before none were the wiser.

The Battle of the Citadel, as they were calling it now, achieved some of clan's Ravanor's ambitions. While the damned Council still lived, the fact that they had to live in the ruined remains of their former palace spelt poetic justice to the krogan.

A few had declared that now was the time to strike and finish what the geth had started, but realities of life had dulled their resolve. With the humans now embraced by Council, the krogan faced even more adversaries.

But now fate had blessed him and fully intended to make the most of the opportunity. His sources had found an abandoned base on somewhere in the Nemean Abyss. Far from the watchful eyes of the Citadel and its members, he fully intended to make it his base of operations. Now with his brother, together they would share in his success.

"Barkeep!" Kratok roared, "A round of drinks for my brother here!"

After all, they were on the very of becoming spectacularly successful.

* * *

_**Alliance Troop Transport**_

_**Benning, Euler System, Arcturus Stream**_

Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams kept to herself in one corner of the passenger bay, as the troop transport neared the planetary surface of Benning. The closest garden world to Arcturus Station, the planet served as the station's primary food source and its logistics and training arenas. Populated mainly by farmers and Alliance military personnel it also served as the headquarters of the Orbital Reconnaissance and Assault Academy.

She sighed to herself as she reflected her new direction in life. Just 12 hours ago, she had been granted admission into the notorious ORA Academy. The rest was up to her. Legendary for its harsh training and dreaded for its dropout rate, the academy was noted for amalgamating earth's paratrooper forces with 22nd century technology.

Even to this day earth governments routinely sent their soldiers to ORA academy, if only to garner favour with the burgeoning Systems Alliance. It would appear that humanity's vault onto the Citadel Council and the subsequent economic concessions made sceptical governments only too eager to join the Alliance and reap the benefits.

"Typical." Ashley thought to herself "We spill the blood and some political fat-cat reaps the gain."

Sitting around her were fellow soldiers, some younger and others older, whom chatted, traded gossip, thumbed through the latest novel or stared thoughtfully at the dull, gray ceiling. In one corner she saw one serviceman covertly reading a copy of Fornax; a nude Asari draped across its front cover in a "come-hither" pose.

Her eyes caught the glance of one particularly scarred trooper. His eyes narrowed at her as if trying to bring up some forgotten memory. With scars that ran criss-cross around his broad face, he looked as if he had gotten into a fight with a tractor. Broad arms stretched out from massive shoulders and carved onto his left forearm were the words "Semper Fi". His eyes were startling blue in their intensity and his dark skin reminded her of Colombian Coffee.

"You're Williams." He said a statement more than a question.

For a second Ashley hesitated before sticking out her chin defiantly and replying.

"Yes." A challenge more than a response, an invitation to counter her or not. She was sick and tired of being compared to her Grandfather, tired of having to fight preconceived notions, tried of having to prove herself every damn time…

"Behari." He responded, a broad grin now stretching out over his features. "Samuel Behari, 22nd Recon Company"

Before she could respond the transport finally landed on the surface of Benning. A dull thump echoed throughout the hull as its landing struts bore the full weight of the loaded transport until coming to a standstill. The monotone syllables of the onboard VI politely requested that they stay seated until the captain shut down the engines.

The doors hissed open to reveal the hulking form of an Alliance Major. A big toothy grin was plastered on his face and a glowing, red synthetic eye gleamed out from one of his sockets. One scar ran across his face and ended near his neck and his scarred forearms were clasped behind his back. Behind the major, the darkened forms of instructors waited, eyeing their new charges with an disturbing predatory avarice.

"Ladies and Gentlemen…" the Major snarled, his voice carrying through the hold of the troop transport. "Welcome to ORA. Training starts now."

* * *

_**Human Embassy, Presidium**_

_**Citadel, Widow System, Serpent Nebula**_

Councillor David Anderson was silent as the Asari trade representative droned on and on. His eyelids threatened to droop further over his eyes, as she outlined the benefits that would accrue to both the asari and humanity.

Increased trade, broadened export markets, widened consumer base, guaranteed investor protection, so on and so forth. In the end a whole lot of businesses were going to become very rich and apparently that was a good thing.

A part of Anderson cursed Shepard for nominating him as humanity's Councillor. Another part of him reproached him for thinking ill of the dead. Shepard may have been idealist, but lord knew that no one wanted Udina to represent humanity.

Yet Anderson felt he could do little good sitting in the Citadel, watching the Council almost wilfully ignore their impeding doom. For a split second, an image appeared in his head of a dying dog drooling happily whilst a veterinarian prepared to put it to sleep, until his bodyguard tactfully nudged him.

The asari trade delegation had fallen silent and all eyes were on him. For a brief second, Anderson panicked until Udina surreptitiously nodded and moved the datapad into his line of sight.

"Thank you Matriarch Neiros" He began, as he rose from his position at the head of the oval table, his deep bass voice carrying over the table and towards the asari "The Systems Alliance is honoured by the Asari Republic's offer and we are eager to engage in trade that will benefit _both_ our people."

Anderson allowed himself a nod, as the polite clapping began around the table. Truth be told even before they arrived, the Prime Minister had gone over the Asari Republic's probable trade offer and had ordered him to accept it. Being a military man by heart, he had no choice but to execute that order and so the outcome was already decided even before the meeting began.

As he sat down, he darkly wondered whether the same could be said for the galaxy even before the Reapers arrived.

* * *

_**2 Months after Destruction of the SR1 Normandy**_

_**Planet X91**_

_**Nemean Abyss**_

Ravanor Urloc sceptically surveyed their new surroundings as Kratok showed them their new base of operations. Of all the places, he had chosen this? On a world so forgotten that even the most zealous of archaeologists paid no heed to it.

Kratok inwardly sighed as he recognized his brother's indifference to their new surroundings. Urloc had always been a little…unsophisticated. Urloc didn't the see the opportunity that was staring them in the eye and Kratok resolved to reveal it.

"Mines?" Urloc queried, pushing aside the curious vorcha whom had congregated around an ancient loader. "This is how we'll recover?"

"Riddle me this, Urloc." Kratok gravely intoned, as if he were one of the clan's elders instructing one of the pups "What is the most valuable commodity in the galaxy?"

Urloc pondered the questions for a moment and then flippantly replied "Eezo, guns and asari hookers"

Kratok shot his younger brother a disapproving look. Urloc had always been subservient towards his baser desires. Whether it was weapons or more physical desires, Urloc had yet to conquer his desire for violence or sex (or whatever it was those damned asari did). Yet Urloc had hit the proverbial nail on its head, or so the human saying went.

"Indeed, _Kruther_." Kratok emphasized the traditional krogan term for younger sibling, hoping that the mention of their ancient tongue would bring his indolent brother to attention.

Kratok glanced appreciatively at his surrounding. An ordinary sapient would have seen an ancient mine, long forgotten by some dead civilization in this corner of the galaxy. An archaeologist would see a trove of data to be studied and analyzed. Kratok saw profit!

Kratok keen businessman's vision saw tools that would harvest and then stabilize the raw eezo nodules. His eyes saw tracks to haul the goods. His mind predicted massive wealth as even the most self-righteous governments would gladly pay him every cent in order to purchase his eezo. In an age where nearly every method of transportation depended on eezo, a lucky miner could make it bug. A shrewd business man could become rich beyond measure.

Omega. The land of opportunity and goods for those whom had the foresight. Omega would be the source from where they could 'source' the labour for the mine. Theshaca had thought him the folly of running the slaving raids. Better to let others take the risk and pay them a small premium for it.

As Kratok explained this to his brother, he noticed his younger sibling's eye light up with what he could only assume was wonder for his brother's intelligence. Yes…now he understood.

* * *

_**3 Months after Destruction of the SR1 Normandy**_

_**Training grounds of the Alliance Pathfinder program (S-designation)**_

_**Benning, Euler System, Arcturus Cluster**_

The holojournals described Benning as a garden world, a rarity in the vast galactic cosmos and consequently prized by the Systems Alliance. What they failed to mention was the overwhelming humidity that became prevalent during the monsoon seasons that swept over the entire planet. For the better part of five months, the air would grow heavy with evaporated moisture and your lungs would fill like wet cotton with the oppressive humidity.

Yet the sadists whom ran ORA decided that midday would be perfect to send the entire company out on a five mile training run through moraines and valleys of this particular valley. The locals called it Paradise Valley; Ashley called it the dankest part of the galaxy.

"You think this is tough?!" the Major roared from the back of his hovering pickup as it set at a punishing pace in front of the column "This is nothing to what you'll have to do for real!"

For the better part of the past months, the Major (no one knew his real name) put all recruits through the proverbial wringer. Whether it was fifty mile runs at midday or lectures on aerodynamics the Major demanded utmost perfection from the recruits. Old hands from some of the harshest regions of Alliance space and fresh-faced colonial kids were all subject to the Major's verbal and mental abuse.

Yet Ashley thrived in the high-stress environment. Maybe because she had survived the hunt for Saren. Maybe because it was her unique blend of dogged determination and pure grit. Regardless, as the atheletes in the company began to drop from exhaustion, Ashley still pushed on forward. Even as the air grew heavy with evaporated moisture and the sun beat down harder and harder, she pushed herself forward her feet moving her up and over the ridges and moraines.

Finally when what was left of the company neared their destination, Ashley noticed the air began to cool around her. On top of ridge overlooking a magnificent waterfall, Ashley savoured the break, the droplets of water cooling her body. From the corner of her eyes, she could have sword the Major gave a ghost of a smile and then snap more orders at the weary masses of recruits.

"Fix lines!"

* * *

_**4 months after destruction of Normandy**_

_**Councillor's residence, Presidium**_

_**Citadel, Widow System, Serpent Nebula**_

Anderson let out a snarl as he flung the very expensive & very empty bottle of Red Janey Brand vodka across the room and into the wall. For a brief second, he cursed Shepard, cursed the Alliance for putting him into this damned position and cursed whatever fate decided he should spend his sunset years in the company of politicians. He hated politics, the innuendo, the inquisitive 'reporters' and even the Citadel itself.

Wearily he raised a hand to his face and managed to compose himself. The Citadel had used to be a wondrous sight to him, he rued, a treasure in the crown of galactic civilization. A thousand different sapiens working, playing and even loving together. But after what Shepard had revealed, it all seemed so…pathetic. These people; turians, asari, elcor, volus, salarians and even humans all so blissfully ambled through what was the galactic equivalent of a Venus fly-trap. True, Shepard had managed to prevent the trap from snapping close, but it still was a trap nonetheless.

Even the ever so industrious Keepers remained a mystery to everyone. What if they were agents of the Reapers, awaiting their master's glorious return? What if right now they were plotting the demise of everyone on the station?

The recovery crew had recovered nothing from Ilos, just a bunch a decayed corpses far too gone to even run a DNA analysis. The turian councillor had jumped on this opportunity to smear Shepard's reports, marking them as the delusions of a battle-worn and sleep deprived _human_.

The asari councillor had made a show of sympathising with Anderson, but he suspected that she was eager to put the matter of the Reapers down to a quaint superstition. After all her kind had been around for thousands of years and wouldn't they have discovered such a threat? Even the Salarian had found nothing of note on Ilos and so the entire matters was sealed off.

_He had been played!_ Anderson realized to himself. He had given the bone of a new trade deal with implied promise that he's drop the 'ridiculous' notions of a race of synthetic overlords barrelling towards them. The implied threat was that if he continued down this path, humanity's economy would lose the very generous trade concessions that it had been awarded by the Asari Republics.

His economists had insisted that such a deal was essential to the Systems Alliance and consequently humanity. They had projected that the new deal would allow the Alliance to continue its aggressive colonisation programs and recoup the loss to the Alliance Navy. Never mind the men and women whom sacrificed their lives to buy time for the _Destiny Ascension_ to escape. Never mind that the first human Spectre's corpse lay frozen in the void. Never mind the fact that the economy would mean nothing when the Reapers arrived.

_Damn it all_….he was tired. Tired after a long day of politicking, dodging reporters and maintaining the façade of respectability. He needed a goddamn break. He needed to get away from it all. He needed to find some forgotten planet on the far side of the galaxy, far from nosy reporters and sceptical politicians. The least he could use was a good night's sleep.

Oh…and he needed to clean up the mess in the apartment. For brief second he wondered what happened to Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams. Yes…she was one of Shepard's 'elite', the band of individuals loyal to him and the Alliance. As soon as she finished her training and maybe had some sense knocked back into her, he could use someone like her. Someone whom didn't care on whose toes she stepped on or whose feelings she hurt. To do the thing he couldn't do on the Citadel. To be his eyes and ears in the Terminus Systems. To help prepare for the Reapers. God knows what else he could do

* * *

_**Planet X91**_

_**Nemean Abyss**_

Ravanor Kratok allowed himself a grin as he supervised the mining operations. Fortune had been kind to him and he had wisely made the most of him. Hiring vorcha enforcers to monitor the labour, he had made excellent progress on this planet.

Whoever this planet belong to was long dead, for what reason he didn't care. All he knew was this: it was heavily industrialized and that meant only one thing. Eezo, lots and lots of eezo. You didn't setup an industrial base without a ready supply of eezo on hand.

Even now his mostly human labourers hit rich eezo nodules. Kratok prided himself on his ability to lead and influence other sapiens and in this his memory served him well. Those 'labourers' who showed initiative were rewards with extra rations. Those whom lagged behind or try to defy him be attempting escape would be served as the vorcha's next meal. It was the little things that often made the difference.

Not that he was going soft. Very quietly he had allowed the rumour to spread amongst the humans that he planned to reward some of the more diligent workers with their freedom. Not that he would mind you, but he saw no reason to disabuse them of that notion.

Yes, things were finally looking up. Perhaps one day he'd be able to see the desert flats of his native Tuchanka once more, with his head held high. Perhaps if the fates smiled on him, he might even mate with a fertile female. It helped to dream a little.

* * *

_**6 Months after the destruction of the Normandy**_

_**Canteen**_

_**Orbital Reconnaissance and Assault Academy**_

_**Benning, Euler System, Arcturus Cluster**_

Samuel Behari stared at her, while she thoughtlessly chewed on a meatball. Seated in the crowed cafeteria in the barracks, she shared the table with her fellow pathfinder initiates.

"Bullshit." Behari finally answered, as his eyes narrowed "No way in hell, did a grunt like you handle a HMWA Master Assault Rifle…"

"No offence." He quickly added, when the corners of Ashley lips curled up in a frown.

"Corporal Behari." She officiously answered, whilst the rest of the table listened in on their conversation "Am I going deaf, or did you just call your Gunnery Chief, a _liar_."

A trail of snickers crept across the table, as the rest of the initiates alternated between eating their meal of spaghetti and meatball and listening to Ashley's experiences on the _Normandy_.

"Ok, first of all those things cost 220,000 credits a piece." Behari countered, as he held up his fingers "Second of all the Alliance doesn't pay us grunts that kind of salary yet."

Ashley allowed a smile to cross her lips as she leaned forwards.

"Corporal, with one word I will render your arguments moot and reveal the extent of your limited intelligence to the rest of your fellow soldiers." Ashley took a deep breath before continuing, "Bounties."

"Eh?"

"Bounties." Ashley casually explained, "For every mercenary, slaver, geth we took down in the course of our duties, we got a small fee. Now combined that we had to loot the corpses…."

She remembered the first time after a firefight, Shepard and the rest of the squad began to sift and search through the bodies. After her initial revulsion, a part of her rebelling at the notion of rifling through the dead, she had taken it up with a passion. Besides out in the Terminus systems they had encountered a wide diversity of firearms and it wasn't that the dead slavers, mercenaries or even geth would need them in the afterlife.

Understanding dawned on Behari's face, as he finally understood how Ashley had got her hands on a top of a line Spectre-reserved assault rifle.

"How did it handle?" the initiate beside her asked, as she hungrily devoured her meal.

Ashley chewed through a mouthful, as she reminisced about the HMWA assault rifle. Every time the _Normandy_ docked at the Citadel, Shepard would duck into the C-Sec and return with an armful of high-grade weaponry.

She remembered the first day when she had gotten her hands on the HMWA assault rifle. It had been a dream come through and she all but squealed in glee when a package of the advanced weapons had arrived in the _Normandy_'s inventory.

Oh, the hours she had spent with the rifle; tearing it apart to examine its innards during her off-hours, cleaning its casing whilst on the _Normandy_, and firing it as she and Shepard had fought against the madness of the galaxy. Garrus once wryly commented that high-grade weaponry was a common wedding present on some of the militant colonies of Hierarchy Space.

She loved that rifle and soon its advanced siblings. How could she not help it? The smoothness of the action, the sheer volume of shots it could spit out and the raw power that seemed to emanate from it.

"Like a dream…" Ashley finally answered.

Like everything else she had loved on the _Normandy_ it had been consumed by fire when the mystery vessel attacked. Like the man she once loved it had been lost to the cold, uncaring void of space.

Suddenly the doors flew open at the end of the cafeteria and in strode 'The Major'. Her skin began to breakout in goose-bumps at the sight of the Major and the rest of the instructors. Like a pack of lions they hungrily eyed the initiates, many of whom turned to stare back at them.

"Enjoying you meals?" He conversationally asked, in the silence that now enveloped the cafeteria.

"Good." He continued, when no one dared to respond.

Over the course of the past few months, the surviving initiates had grown to fear and hate the Major of ORA. No one knew who he was or what his name was. Some whispered that he was the bastard child of Jon Grissom, whom vented his daddy issues on the rest of them. Others said that he had grown in vat in some secret laboratory on Gagarin Station only to torment them.

A part of Ashley understood what the Major was trying. To get the initiates to forge a bond with each other, to become a coordinated team of warrior. They may hate, fear and curse him, but they did it as a pack.

"Start running to Mt. Doom, marines!" He barked, "And if you're not there by sundown, you're running all the way back here!"

* * *

_**Human Embassy, Presidium, **_

_**Citadel, Widow System, Serpent Nebula**_

Councillor Andersons studied the intelligence report that had been thrust onto his desk. Whilst technically he was no longer part of the Alliance military, Admiral Hackett had seen it fit to pass him intelligence files every now and then, out of respect Shanxi veterans had for each other.

What he saw gave him pause. Naval Intelligence's interrogation of Dr. Wayne, suspected of Cerberus affiliation had revealed disturbing information about the shadow organization. An entire black-ops company convinced to work for their "Illusive Man", unknown agents placed in key positions in the human military-industry complex and even rumours of a stealth prototype in the works.

If the Council got wind of this, the repercussions could be catastrophic. The turian ambassador had always been leery of humanity's sudden vault to its position of power and had been angling for months for the Council to stall human dreadnaught production. The press, if it ever got a hold of it, would blast the Alliance leadership painting it as incapable of maintaining loyalty among its own people.

If that weren't enough, Alliance patrols had reported increased pirate intrusions into Alliance space. It became clear that slavers and pirates viewed the Alliance Navy as overstretched by its new responsibilities. The sad thing was that it wasn't far from the truth. The burden of protecting the Citadel with the combination of heavy casualties from the Battle of Citadel had all but stretched the Navy to its breaking point.

A part of Anderson wished that was out there on the front-lines, hunting down slavers and pirates. Yet he knew that that wish remained in the realm of fantasy. His bones were getting weak, his muscles were getting sore. Whether it was extra minutes he took to finish his morning workout routine, or the moments where he would risk the elevators instead of the stairs, his body was giving out.

For a brief moments Anderson wish that Shepard were still alive and then tossed that line of thinking aside. Dwelling on what could have been was an exercise in futility. No he had to exercise patience. In a few months William's training would be completed and then he could have an agent in whom he could trust.

Maybe then he could do something useful for a change.

* * *

_**549 metres above sea level**_

_**Benning, Euler system, Arcturus Stream**_

It was the summer season on this corner of Benning. Whilst other regions suffered heavy rain or even cold snow, over here the sun blazed with the fury of an open oven. The oppressive heat, made Therum seem like a cold, arctic glacier, sapped at your will and sucked all the water from the air.

The dry, harsh wind that came in over the mountains howled over craggy peaks of dried limestone and rock. Loose dirt and rocks were hurled from their perches and launched down the slopes. Tiny marsupials squealed and ducked, as the debris swept down the mud-caked slope of this desolate mountain. As the clattering of loose stones faded, silence reigned.

A loud florid curse interrupted the silence, followed soon after by irritated snarl. A lithe, yet muscular forearm appeared over the ridge and its muscles tensed as it pulled its owner behind it. Narrow shoulders pulled up a surprisingly strong core as a human pulled itself up and over the ridge. For a second the figure lay completely still, the tired gasps for breath the only indication that it's alive. Finally it gathered enough to strength to clear the back of its throat and hurl a gob of spit, sand and dirt into the dry heat.

Ashley Madeline Williams groaned and wiped her hand across her lips. She sat up and snarled a curse that would have made even the saltiest krogan blush. Nearly every inch of her skin was caked with dirt, sweat and blood. Beneath the ridge she lay sprawled over, her fellow initiates struggled up the craggy peaks and troughs that made up the slope of the Mt. Doom (its official name was unknown).

A grunt of pain came from behind her and she turned to regard its source. Service Chief Behari cursed and clawed his way up behind her, his great big hands tearing out tufts of what passed for grass on this god-forsaken planet.

"Damn sadists!" He cursed as he finally pulled himself beside Ashley. Only 40 minutes ago the company had been served lunch, before the Major strolled into their mess hall, with that sadistic grin of his and announced that they were due for another training climb. For the past 30 minutes the entire company of recruits and trainees, many of whom were experienced soldiers, had struggled and climbed up the hostile crevices and ridges that had made up the mountain.

The pair of them regarded the initiates climbing up the mountain for a moment and then leaned down to pull up their nearest comrades. In a matter of minutes the entire company of initiates had made their way up to the flat plateau that was the top of Mt. Doom. The panting and heaving mass quickly grabbed whatever could pass for a seat and enjoyed the respite.

"What now Chief?" Behari wheezed out, the toll of pulling up his comrades and ascending the harsh slopes on a full stomach, having taken a toll on him.

Ashley frowned as she remembered her instructions. Over the past months, she had temporarily assumed command of the company, in absence of a formal commanding officer. She could only hope that her informal command remained intact afterwards.

"We wait for the shuttles"

As if summoned by her voice, a flight of UT 47 dropships howled through the air and circled the flat plateau of the mountain. Painted in the standard Alliance blue, these shuttles sported the emblazoned golden wings of the Pathfinders.

A chorus of groans came from the company when one of the shuttle's doors slid open to reveal the presence of the 'Major'. His permanent sadistic grin was painted over his scarred visage and grasped firmly in his hands was the "Jumpack".

"What now?" One nearby recruit spat, his spittle dropping in the mud that seemed to dominant this planet "We gonna jump?"

A grin spread across Ashley's muddy, sweaty face, as she responded

"We gonna jump"

* * *

_**30 minutes later**_

_**17,500 feet above sea level**_

_**Benning, Euler System, Arcturus Stream**_

Ashley Williams bravely resisted the urge to scream as she plummeted towards the surface of Benning. Against the guarantees of the Hashimoto Conglomerate the damned Jumpack had failed to deploy its mass effect field!

A hundred different reasons flitted across her adrenaline addled mind. _Compromised circuits? _Half those things were merely nanometres thick. _Impure eezo core?_ Wouldn't be the first time a supplier had over-valued the purity of their element zero stock. _Sabotage?_ She may be unpopular, but she doubted that anyone hated her that much. Perhaps it was simply her cursed luck. Figures, though. After all nearly everyone she knew died around her and perhaps the good Lord decided it was time to collect her soul.

Pushing aside her panic, even as bile bubbled to the back of her throat, Ashley fumbled with her Omni-Tool as her altimeter cruelly counted down her descent towards impact. Without the active eezo core, her Jumpack was merely dead weight. _Damn it!_ By now the automatic system should have detected the failed mass effect field and deployed the reserve chute!

There was no time to run a diagnostic scan. By the time the damned thing found the cause of the problem her organs would likely be scattered across the planetary surface of Benning.

"Damn it Williams!" A voice squawked in her ear "Deploy your pack now!"

That had to be the day's training supervisor. She sardonically wondered how her death would be reported in his daily report. Failed to deploy pack, reasons unknown? Atmospheric conditions made jump hazardous? Or would they even bother at all, simply writing off her death as a cruel accident? Or would they even rule it a suicide? She doubted they would be enough left of the pack after impact to make a reasonable guess.

"Pack failed!" She managed croak out. If they were to be her last words, she didn't want to be remembered as the panic-stricken rookies who fell screaming to her death. At least say that she faced her demise with a modicum of decorum, as moronic as the notion was.

Desperately she scrolled through Omni-tool's menus until she found what she was looking for. _Reserve Chute and Thrusters_. She was already past the point where the reserve chute might make a difference and the thrusters alone couldn't stop her descent. Unless….

_No time for debate!_ Violently slapping her omni-tool, she let out a relieved sob as the reserve chute finally deployed. Then she brutally thrust upward as her chute deployed and her stomach raced towards her mouth. Relief turned to horror as the reserve chute was torn apart as the harrowing g-forces ripped it apart.

An ordinary soldier would have screamed in terror as she continued to fall towards the surface. Ashley prided herself on being more than ordinary. She was a Williams. Where others saw despair and doom, she saw a challenge. With a calm she had never felt before, she overrides the suit's safety protocols and activated its built in thrusters.

With a muffled roar, the thrusters activated and her descent slowed from life-ending to merely bone-shattering. From the corner of her vision she noted the nearby bay. Oyster Bay the locals called it, famed for its abundance shell-bearing molluscs which were toxic to those with

At her speeds, landing onto solid terrain would be a death sentence and she prayed that the water would absorb enough of the force.

"Impact in twenty seconds!" she screamed over the comms, dignity be damned! The force of the impact alone would likely knock her out and she didn't relish the prospect of drowning slowly.

She barely managed to spit out a prayer for deliverance before she violently slammed into the pristine waters of Oyster Bay and was flung into unconsciousness.

* * *

_**Supervising Vessel**_

_**30,000 feet above sea level**_

_**Benning, Euler System, Arcturus Stream**_

"Trooper down!" Lieutenant Adrian Faber hollered into his comms. Recovery vessels were already responding and a flight of UT-47 dropships howled across the atmosphere towards the downed trooper's last known position.

_Five Minutes_. That how far the closest vessel was away from reaching her position. A lot could happen in five minutes.

* * *

_**Two minutes after Impact**_

_**3000 feet below sea level, Oyster Bay**_

_**Benning, Euler System, Arcturus Stream**_

Ashley Madeline Williams was enveloped by a serenity she had never felt before. For a brief moment in her life, she was at peace with what happened. Eden Prime, Feros, a thousand different worlds and even Virmire, she had danced with death and now her time had come.

Yet a part of Ashley was mildly surprised that she should meet her death on a simple training exercise. Yet another part of her accepted it. After the death of the entire 212th Marine Brigade it was only fitting that she join her comrades in death.

Images appeared leisurely appeared and then disappeared from her conscious. Her mom and sisters on Sirona waiting to hear from her. Her father walking through the front door, his arms held wide upon as she ran into them. Private Nirali Bhatia, her closest friend in the 212, listening to her husband's recordings. Battling geth troopers with whatever weapons she could lay her hands on, as her comrades died around her. Wrex, the massive krogan battlemaster grudgingly relating the tales of his past adventures. Her assault rifle blazing away at resurrected rachni as they poured out of the earth itself. Virmire, where blood and water mixed as salarians and geth troopers fought and grappled with each other. Shepard ordering her to abandon ship as the _Normandy_ crumbled around them…

_No. Not. Like. This_. She didn't survive the Terminus Systems, hostile geth, insane asari commandoes, and enraged krogans to die out like this. She wanted, no _deserved_ better than. She deserved a battle royale against the Reapers themselves, with her rifle spitting out death and mayhem and with blood on her lips. She was goddamn Gunnery Chief Ashley Madeline Williams, expert in almost every weapon known to civilization and she was _not_ going to die at the bottom of a damned bay!

Ashley Williams gasped as she regained consciousness, 3000 feet below the surface. Almost immediately she struggled against the straps the pinned her to the defunct Jumpack, ignoring her hardsuit's warning klaxon. The suit's internal life-support systems were dying out and she had maybe a few minutes of air. The remains of her reserve chute billowed around her, clouding her vision.

With her trademark vigour, she snapped up her combat knife and slashed at the straps. Finally free of her burden she propelled herself towards the surface, her powerful legs pushing her towards the light, even as her lungs started to burn and the edges of her vision darkened. She had a brief image of Shepard sardonically clapping in approval, until she broke the surface, tore off her helmet and took a deep breath of sweet, fresh air.

Minutes later as the medics hauled her up into the awaiting transport she managed to sputter out "Put me in for the next drop!"

* * *

_**7 Months after the Destruction of the Normandy**_

_**CQB training room, ORA Academy**_

_**Benning, Euler System, Arcturus Stream**_

"Kill him, Williams." Behari whispered into Ashley's ear as she sat in the corner of the fighting ring. She remained silent, focused on tightening the sparring gloves that covered her hands. Behari remained behind the ropes, standing behind her and trying his level best to encourage her.

"No chance of that" Ashley Williams muttered back as she sized up her opponent. Clambering to her feet she faced off against her opponent. The two of them faced off in the ring that was assembled in the hall of their barracks. Around them recruits sat on whatever seating they could find as they watched their CQB instructor face off against Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams. From the corner of her eye, she saw surreptitious bets made and coins trade hands amongst the initiates.

Her opponent was the scarred, older Lieutenant Adrian Cornelius whom served as ORA's CQB trainer. Cornelius was old enough to have fought in Shanxi and deadly enough to have survived it. Rumour had it that he had fought in the Skillian Blitz, lead the assault on Torfan, survived a Thresher Maw attack _and_ was the first human to sleep with Sha'ira. A wistful smirk crossed Ashley's face as she remembered Shepard's confused visage when the Consort had hugged the commander and her own burst of jealousy when confronting the asari.

Pushing those memories from her mind, Ashley attacked first, launching a flurry of attacks, jabbing at his neck and sides. In return she received a solid knock to her midsection that sent her back reeling, clutching at her stomach. Raising her head she regarded her opponent, whom now wore a disdainful grin.

"The problem with you Williams is that you're soft," her opponent taunted, his strong Scottish brogue echoing in the cargo bay "You couldn't knock the skin off a rice pudding"

That earned him another series of attacks as she futilely attempted to penetrate his defences. Another knock at her midsection sent her reeling back again and this time the Lieutenant raised his fist to deliver the mother of all haymakers.

With almost cat-like reflexes, Ashley dodged under his powerful swing. Taking advantage of her opponent's exposed core, she delivered a series of wild jabs at his ribs and side. Not letting up, she finished her attack with a powerful swing that slammed into her opponent's face. The shock of the impact ran up her forearms and into her shoulder, as the wet smack of flesh resounded through the hall.

For a second the Lieutenant was suspended in the air, like a ragdoll freed from its strings, as the force of the impact lifted him up and over. Then he hit the floor with an ominous thud and fell disturbingly still. Silence reigned in the cargo bay as the onlookers were treated the rare sight of the Lieutenant Adrian Cornelius; graduate of the System Alliance Close Quarter Battle school, master of at least five different martial arts, lying completely still.

"Oh crap." Were the first words out of William's mouth as she regarded the prone, silent Lieutenant. Court-martial, crap postings and a dishonourable discharge were just a few of the scenarios that ran through her head. Then Cornelius groaned and stumbled to his feet.

Blood trickled down his noise and an ugly bruise had already begun to form on the right side of his face. A snarl began to form on his face and his vision narrowed down and focused on Williams.

"For Chrissake Williams" He growled, ignoring the gawking stares of the onlookers "When you knock your opponent down, you finish the bastard, instead of just gawking like a poodle!"

* * *

_**10 Months after the destruction of the Normandy**_

_**Ural Mountains**_

_**Earth, Sol System**_

The air was frigid and cold on this dark night in the Ural Mountains. Owls hooted and squirrels chattered in dark forests that dotted the ridges of the mountains. Siberian pines clung to the soil, their strong roots grounding them to the earth that dotted the harsh landscape. Bogs and swamps oozed with mud and primordial life. Polecats stalked and hunted lone amphibians in the tall grass and swamps. Life for the most part had followed this steady rhythm for the past 1000 years and would continue for the next 1000 years as well.

One lone polecat, stalked through the long grass near the shores of lake. Its keen eyes picked out its prey, a lonely frog that croaked a blissful song. Its haunches rose up and its body tensed as it prepared for the final lunge, when suddenly its senses picked up a foreign presence. The hunt abandoned, it ducked into a nearby warren, as seconds later a squad of curious bipeds moved past the lake.

The squad of troopers moved silently and quickly along the shores of the lake, pausing only for the briefest of moments to fill their canteens. Weapons were raised and hand signals were exchanged before the squad pushed on to an objective only they could see.

Like ghosts, the humans moved through the forest. Night-vision goggles illuminated the forest that surrounded the, trees and vegetations rendered in startling clarity. 22nd technology clashed with the ancient will of the forest. Weapons crafted by the finest human manufacturers were wielded by the toughest warriors humanity could offer. But these tough warriors were still painfully human.

Exhaustion ate at their will, sweat dripped down their skin and the dark embrace of sleep offered a welcome reprieve. 48 hours ago, their company of Pathfinder initiates had been roused from their sleep, packed onto waiting gunships and dropped over the Ural Mountains. Dropped in individual teams, the entire company had one week to accomplish a set of objectives in the punishing terrain of the Ural Mountains. Squads had to seize key "assets", rendezvous at coordinates and finally conduct an assault on a fortified objective.

At the head of the squad, Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams narrowed her eyes and focused down her sights. She swept the clearing that lay before her, her Umbra night-vision goggles penetrating the inky darkness. Her keen senses revealed no danger and she signalled the all-clear.

Minutes passed and finally the troopers neared their objective. A ramshackle farmhouse stood in the clearing, the starlight giving it a mystical quality. A simple porch lamp shone a bright light across the clearing and the simple wooded door beckoned invitingly for the sleep-deprived troopers.

Ashley's keen vision recognized the farmhouse for what it was. A lie. Her eyes, aided by 22nd century technology picked at least two dozen different sentries. Her HUD highlighted and noted the dug in machine-gun nest, the gunner mounting a heavily modified Typhoon machine-gun. The sentries patrolled to and fro across the front of the house and one wielded a high-power sniper rifle.

Ashley's HUD beeped once and highlighted the position of another squad nearby. Dropping into a crouch, the squad behind her mimicking her actions, she aimed down her sights. Recognizing a friendly face, she quickly flashed a series of hand gestures.

Minutes later, Ashley flashed the ready-signal. Beside her, one trooper hefted a grenade launcher and fired on shot straight into Typhoon gunner's nest. Ashley laid down a hail of suppressive fire, as squads of Pathfinders rushed the farmhouse and prepared to breach and clear.

"Contact!" she heard a private, roar over the squad comm. network "Hostiles, coming up on our left flank"

Her heartbeat pounding in her ear, Ashley quickly motioned two nearby privates to follow her. Charging past the chaos that enveloped the farmhouse, as the sentries and the trainees engaged in heavy firefight, as the darkness was illuminated by firestorm of slugs that left heat trails in the cold, dark air, the trio moved hard and fast towards their left flank.

Moving quickly to a new position, the trio drooped into prone positions and held their breath. Seconds later, a squad of "hostiles" charged past the trio, their weapons held high and their eyes focused on their objective. Rising to a crouch, Ashley hefted and then hurled a "grenade" into the midst of the group.

Electric light arced out and burst among the unlucky squad, as the beacons lit up on the "hostiles" combat vests. Ashley put down a hail of fire, the training rounds illuminating and tagging the "hostiles" as "dead".

Hidden behind her combat helmet, Ashley lips momentarily pulled back to reveal a grin, until she rose to her feet and leapt back into action.

Five minutes later the farmhouse fell to the combined assault of two Pathfinder squads. Hefting the launcher, one initiate fired off a flare, a beacon off success that burned hot in the cold, dark night. The night sky was illuminated by one, then two, then five, and then dozens of flares, as squads spread throughout the Ural Mountains fired off flares.

_First set of objectives taken._ Ashley thought to herself, as the squad trooped back into the forest and towards their final destination. _Miles to go before we sleep_.

* * *

_**10 Months and 2 weeks after the destruction of the Normandy**_

_**Parade Grounds**_

_**Arcturus Station, Arcturus System, Arcturus Stream**_

"ATTENTION!" The Major roared over the assembled companies of pathfinders. The reverberating snap of thousands of trained, drilled and deadly Pathfinders echoed in the magnificent hall within Arcturus Station as they stood at attention.

The Major marched up to each trooper. He stared each recruit in the face, his synthetic eye gleaming with an unnatural intensity and with a gruff nod he pinned the jump wings on them. Moving along the ranks of the assembled troopers, he finally came to a stop in front of Ashley Williams.

He stared deep in to Ashley's eyes, his own synthetic eye buzzing and whining in the silence that gripped the air around them. Ashley stared back at him, a defiant tilt to her head that dared the Major to do his worst. She had come through the toughest training, endured the most inhospitable environments possible, fought against every conceivable enemy possible and she would be damned if some sadistic major thought he could break her.

"Congratulations" He finally spoke, after what seemed to be an eternity. His lips curled back to reveal a surprisingly sincere grin. A grin that for once, gave no hints of malevolence or sadism, but revealed pride.

A scarred palm slapped the jump wings deep into her Alliance dress blues. A second slap of those palms deposited a fresh set of rank tags into her hands and with a simple nod he continued down the line.

Finally Ashley Williams glanced down and her eyes widened as she recognized the tags.

_Operations Chief?_

* * *

_**CODEX ENTRY: Orbital Deployment, Reconnaissance and Assault (S Designation)**_

_**Established 2152 the Orbital deployment, Reconnaissance and Assault Academy (ORA) has become the System Alliance's primary school for orbital deployment and infiltration. Representing an amalgamation of earth's paratrooper forces, combined with 22**__**nd**__** century technology and tactics, the ORA academy became a leader in planetary assault and tactics. **_

_**Initially established in Ural Mountains on Earth, it was later relocated to garden world Benning. The Mountains still form an integral part of the training program. Initial graduates were relegated to groundside battalions, till the Battle of Shanxi. **_

_**Inductees are trained in orbital deployment tactics (utilizing Jumpack and single-soldier capsules), covert insertion and reconnaissance. Emphasis is placed on survival in enemy territory and expertise in orbital deployment tactics. Finally culminating in a test, what has been termed "Hell-Week", trainees are expected to conduct an orbital drop into the harsh, unforgiving Ural Mountains and succeed. **_

_**During this week they are to achieve objectives, relying only on themselves and each other to accomplish the task. Graduates of the academy receive the coveted "S-bar" and "jump-wings", indicating proficiency in orbital deployment and assault tactics. **_

_**S-designation marines nicknamed 'Pathfinders' are formally inducted into the 2**__**nd**__** Benning Regiment of the 102**__**nd**__** Marine Division. In reality pathfinders typically serve as part of their respective vessels "jumper" units. Following the catastrophe at Mindoir, cruisers serving at the fringes of Alliance space and within Terminus space typically carry at least three platoons of Pathfinders with them. **_

* * *

I realize that this chapter might be atrociously long, but I just wanted to get the training segment out of the way.

Fun fact: almost all planetary bodies mentioned in this chapter exist in the ME universe for "real".

Please rate, review and subscribe!


	4. Operation Shield - Part 1

_In time we hate that which we often fear._

_- Antony and Cleopatra by William Shakespeare - _

_For as long as the Batarian Hegemony supports and funds terrorists, subversives and slavers, no Hegemony citizens will be granted passage into Systems Alliance space or her colonies. _

_- Prime Minister Amul Shastri of the Systems Alliance Parliament, 2173 - _

_**10 months and 3 weeks after the destruction of the SR1 Normandy,**_

_**Arcturus Station, Arcturus System, Arcturus Stream**_

Ashley stared through the transparisteel window as she admired her new posting. Serenely floating a few hundred kilometres away the _SSV Shanghai_ represented Ashley's new home for her next tour of duty.

Behari walked up beside her and gave a low appreciative whistle as he shared in the view of the majestic warship.

"Look at her" the burly marine remarked as he gazed at the orbiting cruiser "She could slag Kharshaan three times over"

Ashley nodded in return, as her eyes devoured the length of the cruiser. Whilst nominally resembling the profile of the "standard" Alliance cruiser, the _Shanghai_ was a brute in its own might. Officially designated a "Heavy Cruiser", its role was to bring the fury of the Alliance into space engagements and planetary invasions.

Equipped with the latest advances in Alliance VI technology, its 116 crewmembers were able maintain, run and ultimately push the warship to her limits. Its sophisticated Kinetic-Tactical arena ensured that its 104 marine complement was kept battle ready.

The _Shanghai_ didn't share the _Normandy_'s graceful looks or its sleek profile. Instead it resembled a study beast of war, one whom had no illusions as to its role in the galaxy. And it fitted Ashley perfectly.

"Come on Behari, time to meet our boss." Ashley finally murmured, quietly picking up her sack. Loaded down with the few possessions she called her own, she marched towards the shuttles that would take the marines to their new home.

"Lieutenant Guo?" Behari muttered underneath his breath "Heard he's an asshole."

"Is that so, Corporal?" Guo, _himself _sneered as he appeared suddenly at their sides. Ashley suppressed a snicker as Behari's face turned a unique shade of red, as both the marines snapped to attention.

Almost as tall as Garrus Vakarian was, Lieutenant Guo's face bore the trademark features of the New Chongqing colony on the planet Watson. His dark eyes offered no hints to his character and his mouth seem to be set in a permanent frown.

"Behari, are you aware of the Navy's commitment to the ongoing fitness standards of our personnel?" Guo silkily continued, the soft tone of his voice barely concealing the trace of venom that ran through it.

"Yes, Lieutenant." Behari replied.

"Excellent, perhaps you would set an example for your fellow soldiers….pushups _now_."

With commendable form, Corporal Behari dropped to the floor in front of his comrades in the middle of Arcturus' hanger bay. A few mechanics stopped to gawk at the sight of the burly marine crunching through the pushups as the Lieutenant carelessly inspected the cuff of his uniform.

"…And Operations Chief Williams?" Guo continued as his eyes suddenly fixed on her. The Lieutenant loomed over her, as he stared her down. Ashley barely concealed the defiant tilt of her chin as she maintained the salute.

"We are being deployed to the border systems." Guo growled as he towered over her "Out there I will not tolerate any dereliction of military etiquette. See to it that the rest of Second Platoon understands that."

"Yes, sir." Ashley replied

Silence passed between then, as Behari nearby huffed and puffed through a punishing set of pushups.

"Come, come, Chief Williams." Guo finally spoke up, a ghost of a smile appearing on his face "We are headed to the frontiers of human civilization…and the Navy always delivers on its promise of danger and adventure."

* * *

_**11 months after the destruction of the SR1 Normandy,**_

_**Demeter**_

_**Sharman System, Armstrong Nebula**_

The air reeked of death. The simultisms for all their advanced capabilities could never capture how a battlefield _smelt_. Any director worth their salt would be wise not too. The throat-rasping discharge of mass-effect weapons, the rank odour of shattered bodies and stench of burned armour congealed together to create a truly sickening stench.

The Mark VI combat-breather helmet was rated to filter out neurotoxins, hostile organisms and recycle oxygen. However its manufacturer, Hahne-Kedar Inc., did not promise that it would filter out the smell of a battlefield. But this was no battlefield, this was a massacre.

The raiders had hit this place hard. That was evident enough as the marines of the _SSV Shanghai_ picked their way through the shattered ruins of a once vibrant mining colony. Errant corpses twitched and burned in the blaze and in the distance a silo went up in flames.

This was like Mindoir and Eden Prime all over again. Innocent colonists whom tried to make a decent living were brutally _murdered_ by some wandering raiders. Hidden behind her helmet, Operations Chief Ashley William's lips curled in disgust and her eyes flashed with barely concealed rage.

Lieutenant Jeremiah Guo led Hunter platoon as they navigated through the burning remains of the settlement. Every couple of metres they would find a shattered corpse, lying pitifully in the dirt. Only a few of the corpses bore any arms, the majority of which were low-end Banshee and Tornado models that relied on the old heat-diffusion mechanism.

Ashley passed a duo of corpses, propped up against a building that seemed to stare back at her. The fires that hungrily devoured the pair had long removed any distinguishing features from them. She couldn't even tell if they had been male or female. Their eye sockets stared back at Ashley, asking her" "Why?" _Why hadn't they been saved? Why was Ashley here now, when she could offer no aid?_

Ashley shuddered and turned away, as hot fury constricted around her heart.

* * *

_**SSV Shanghai**_

_**Sharman System, Armstrong Nebula**_

Captain William Murdoch of the _SSV Shanghai_ silently listened to the comm. chatter of the marine ground teams. It was the second colony in weeks to be hit.

The _Shanghai_ had been part of the taskforce that had hit the slavers as part "Theshaca Raids". He remembered watching the pirate anchorages burned and thinking that human colonists could sleep peacefully at night.

But now….The Battle of the Citadel had changed everything. Saddled with its new responsibilities of guarding the Citadel and her territories whilst the Turians rebuilt their fleets, alliance border colonies faced a new onslaught of slavers.

Never had a victory cost so much. Humanity may have gained a seat on the Council, but her border worlds were facing attacks by avaricious slavers. Her navy recovering from the brutal battle and the geth war was stretched thin defending its colonies and the Citadel.

A colony child himself, he understood the fear and terror colonists felt. Yet the captain within him understood the reality of the situation. There simply was too much space and not enough ships to adequately cover their territory.

"Hunter 2-4 here." The radio suddenly crackled "Got eyes on two possible bogies."

"Clarify." Lieutenant Guo's stern voice crackled in response. A cool hand, Guo commanded second platoon of Hunter Company. A veteran of the Terminus systems, he shared Murdoch's personal distaste of slavers and mercenaries.

"Two batarians, one looks wounded." Hunter 2-4 described "One's carrying the other. The wounded one is unarmed, I repeat the wounded batarian is unarmed. Please advise."

"Eliminate armed batarian hostile and take wounded in custody." Lt. Guo immediately replied "priority is recovering wounded batarian _alive_."

"Copy that, Eltee. Engaging."

Murdoch closed his eyes, as and visualized Hunter 2-4's actions. He could imagine the rounds spiralling away from the marksman's high-powered rifle and smashing into the batarian slaver. Sometimes it amazed him how much damage a single magnetically propelled slug could do, but then again his vessel was capable of firing slugs the size of desks.

"Target down. Second batarian in custody." Hunter 2-4 reported.

"Copy that. Wait for Chief Williams and secure package for transport. Rest of the platoon will sweep for survivors."

* * *

_**Chalk 4**_

_**Demeter**_

_**Sharman System, Armstrong Nebula**_

Operations Chief Ashley Williams stared balefully at the wounded batarian slaver, whom shared the UT-47 dropship transport with her and Hunter 2-4. Partly relieved to escape the charnel house that was the colony below them, she still was irritated with having to share space with a batarian and a slaver at that as well.

If Ashley was peeved with their bandaged and bound passenger, the rest of the squad was downright enraged. A private from Hunter 2-4 glared murderously and for a brief second Ashley wondered whether it would come down to her defending a batarian slaver against an entire squad of righteously enraged fellow marines.

_No. _They were disciplined. They were smart. They knew that the slaver in front of them at the very least had to have some information concerning his comrades. He had to…If not then, the best he had to look forward to was life imprisonment on the ass-end of some rock, somewhere in human space. And they all knew what happened to batarians in human prisons.

* * *

_**CIC**_

_**SSV Shanghai**_

_**Sharman System, Armstrong Nebula**_

Standing on the bridge of the _SSV Shanghai_, Captain Murdoch grimly studied the after-action report. It was the same damn story all over this sector. Slavers were hitting mining and industrial colonies, snatching the workers and slaughtering anyone else.

"_Batarians…_" Murdoch thought to himself "_Of course it is."_

It had been more than 13 years since the "Massacre of Mindoir" and Operation: Justice. The Alliance had congratulated itself that they had sent the slavers a message: Attack humans and we will hunt you down. Even after the terror of asteroid X57 and the near death of Terra Nova, most human colonists slept secure in the knowledge that if the Alliance couldn't provide protection, it would at least guarantee retribution.

And retribution it would have. And he would see to it personally.

The rulebook was clear in these cases. Send word to Arcturus informing them of their prisoner and wait for the spooks from Naval Intelligence to show up and take possession. He knew the routine and Lord knew that he followed it wholeheartedly.

But he was an Alliance Navy Captain. Theirs was a service which emphasized individual initiative and quick-thinking. They may not boast the iron discipline of the Turians or the mystique of the Asari, but they were adaptive and agile as a hell.

He knew he wasn't approaching the situation with a level head, but for the past weeks he…no the _Shanghai_ and her battle-group had been _humiliated_ by these slavers. Colonies that had been under his watch had been attacked and if he didn't act fast, they would continue to do so.

Finally he came to a decision. He would inform Arcturus about their prisoner…after he made sure that the batarian was valuable. A simple chat would do that. Nothing more and nothing less.

"Take the bridge, Chatterjee" Murdoch curtly informed his XO, "I need to see the doctor"

* * *

_**Medical Bay**_

_**SSV Shanghai**_

_**Sharman System, Armstrong Nebula**_

The batarian lay on one of the beds in the medical bay of the _Shanghai_. A part of Ashley rebelled against the idea of a slaver consuming resources meant for soldiers and civilians, but she knew that the information that the batarian held made him more valuable than an entire armoured division. No matter how utterly despicable he was.

She stood on guard in the medical bay with a pair of burly marines whom flanked the prisoner, her armed with Shock Sticks. The medical staff, aside from the attending physician, had been excused. Whatever was going to happen was off the books. They had all volunteered for what was about to happen.

Captain Murdoch, flanked by Lieutenant Guo marched into the medical bay. Their faces betrayed nothing. For all intents and purposes the pair of them could have been picking up their morning coffee, not beginning to interrogate a wounded slaver.

"Status." Murdoch simply said.

"Five shots to the sternum, one going through his lung and the other through his liver." The physician began to detail the "patients" injuries. "Un-modded rounds, through and through shots. His buddy began to apply medi-gel when he was 'interrupted'"

Evidently someone at the colony had managed to fire off a burst straight into the chest of the batarian. The batarian's comrade had no doubt stayed behind to ensure that his friend was stable, before walking him slowly through the colony. Unfortunately for him, the rest of his friends had no concern for leaving a colleague behind.

The physician glanced significantly at Lt. Guo, whose impassive face revealed nothing. The dead batarian's stiff corpse was left burning on the colony world and there was rumour one of the marines had taken the trouble of removing his eyes. Batarian mythology emphasized that the soul made it way to heaven through the eyes, so it was not hard to see the significance of the unsanctioned action….if it happened.

"We managed to fix up most of the damage and then the patient began to flatline." The doctor continued, consulting his notes "We stabilized him and then put him in preventive coma. He should be fine in week or so"

"Good." Murdoch replied "Wake him. _Now_."

Without a word, the physician tapped a button on a nearby machine and immediately neurochemicals were secreted into the batarian's cerebral cortex and brainstem. Coming to, the batarian awoke to find thee humans staring back at him.

With a snarl the batarian lunged forward, until his forward motion was arrested by the handcuffs that tied him to the gurney and the sharp lance of pain that exploded up his chest. With a grunt of pain, the batarian relapsed back in the gurney.

"Ah, you're awake." Murdoch conversationally began, "Talk."

"Nesh'vak Iery La'roak Kapt'a," the batarian mumbled in response, a dialect so obscure that even the translators couldn't pick it up. "Okr'ah ver'kt til'a!"

There was a momentary pause in the medical bay. Captain Murdoch glanced at the head physician whom merely shrugged. Intravenous barbiturates saved the _Shanghai_'s crew the need to pummel the information out of the slaver, but it did nothing about the slurred pronunciation

"Okresh Na'virl Osan'thak" Murdoch coolly murmured in response. _Are you fit?_

Every Alliance officer, marine and even janitor, whom ever worked near the Terminus Systems, learned the batarian tongue, the unofficial lingua franca of the region. The asari may claims that the Thessia script was the language of commerce, but in the near-lawless region of the border worlds it was worth squat.

"Nequi'lak nos verta Rakot?" The batarian murmured out a query. _Where is Rakot?_

"Rakot? Inarak Muerta…" Murdoch replied, injecting false sympathy into his voice. _Rakot is dead_.

Technically what they were doing was illegal. Interrogating a captured individual with the heavy use of barbiturate was illegal in Citadel space. Especially if they were an alien species. Batarian biology did not handle heavy dosage of anaesthetic well and the longer the interrogation went, the higher the probability of permanent brain damage.

The batarian began to babble rapidly in his alien tongue. No doubt some dialect from batarian, so arcane that even the translators had no idea what to do….Until Captain Murdoch leaned forward and pressed one of his hands on the batarian's thigh. A grimace crossed the alien's face, as Murdoch leaned closer and stared into the batarian's top eyes.

"Save it." Murdoch simply said.

Staring into the top pair of the batarian's eyes, Murdoch's expressionless eyes bored into the batarian's eyes. Ashley didn't know what the batarian saw, but moments later, the slaver cast his eyes downward.

"I want a lawyer." The slaver mumbled finally in a tongue that the translators could understand as Murdoch straightened up.

"Talk and we'll see…" Murdoch emotionlessly replied.

"I won't talk till I get one."

"You won't talk and a lawyer will be the least of your concerns."

"You wouldn't dare…"

"Oh yes I would…" Murdoch finished.

Silently the batarian stared at them and Ashley wondered whether the interrogation would revert to a more brutal form. From the corner of her, she noticed one marine carefully adjust his grip on his Shock Stick.

Without a word, Murdoch slid the gown off the batarian's shoulders that the doctors had clothed him with. After all they needed to remove his clothes in order to operate and to ensure that he had no smuggled weapons.

"A black starburst." Murdoch muttered, as he revealed a garish tattoo that had been carved onto the batarian's shoulder. "If my memory serves me right, this is a prison tattoo…from _batarian_ space."

_Black starburst_: Murdering a Narvarki, the highest caste member of batarian society. Batarian society was striated into strict caste ranks. Punishable by torture, hard labour and if they were feeling merciful then death.

"You don't get anything, batarian." This time, it was Lieutenant Guo spoke "If I want to I can dump your sorry waste of flesh into a vat of medi-gel and run an electric current through you or dump your pathetic hindquarters in batarian space. Hmm? What's punishment for batarian escapees, I bet you'll know."

A momentary look of fear crossed the batarian's visage, before he clamped down on it. A shiver ran up Ashley's spine as she glanced at the blank expression of the captain. She was no fan of the batarians, but even she had to admit the thought of such torture sickened her.

The tension was thick in the atmosphere of the med-bay, as the captain and the captured batarian stared defiantly at each other. Barbiturates suppressed the critical thinking portions of the batarian mind, but as a side effect it accelerated the subject's heart rate bringing it perilously close to total shutdown.

The slaver's four pupils were dilated, as adrenaline coursed through his barbiturate laced body. In the corner of her mind, a timer counted down as the batarian's heart paced perilously closer to complete heart attack.

The batarian lips curled up in a defiant snarl and Murdoch's expression darkened.

"XO!" Murdoch loudly called out, as he activated his omni-tool "Change our course to the Bahak System."

To his credit, the Executive Officer of the _Shanghai_ did not question his captain's orders. A few seconds later, Ashley felt the heavy-cruiser shift underneath her, as it changed its direction and headed straight towards the system's mass-relay.

"No!" The batarian called out desperately, as he lashed out at Guo. Rearing backwards, the lieutenant avoided the mad swipe of the batarian's paws and quickly grabbed both of the slaver's forearms.

Ashley lunged onto the batarian's feet, as the desperate alien kicked desperately. From over her shoulder, she heard the distinct _snap_ of an Ariake Technologies L25 Shock-Baton charge up.

Murdoch leaned into the batarian's field of vision.

"One word, that's all you have to say." He murmured comfortingly in the batarian own tongue.

The batarian glanced helplessly at the grim faces of the humans around him. From the corner of her eye, Ashley caught the doctors silently signal to Guo. _Fifty seconds_. That's all the batarian had left, before he went into complete cardiac arrest.

"Digeris!" He cried out "Digeris! That's all I know, please!"

"That's it, you got what you need!" The doctor snapped, as he jumped into action "Now get out of here, before I have another corpse to deal with it."

Murdoch silently motioned the marines to step backwards, as the doctor called the rest of his staff into the medical bay. As the orderlies crowded around the hyperventilating batarian, the doctor barking out order, Murdoch turned to regard Guo.

"Tell the doc to keep him _alive_." The captain snarled "If the batarian is lying, I'll vent his hide into space."

* * *

_**Planet X91**_

_**Nemean Abyss**_

They say that krogan as a species, do not suffer nightmares. Understandable, given histories of krogan warriors descending deep into the bowels of rachni nests without so much as a shiver.

Yet stereotypes are often false, as Ravanor Kratok, often dreamed. The shamans of Ravanor claimed that he possessed the second sight, the gift of prophecy. Had he stayed on the sun-backed flats of Tuchanka, he might have even risen to the rank of priest. Yet fate had other plans for him.

The nightmares came back this time, dark and violent. A thousand different creatures, no, abominations rose from the black depths of his conscious and dragged him down into the abyss. Perversions of flesh and steel growled and grinned at him, unholy fusions of species plucked at this flesh. He dreamed of Tuchanka burning, of vessels so vast and alien that they defied the imagination. He dreamed of the bones of clan Ravanor lying silent and broken, far from the sacred resting place of the Hollows.

He dreamed of a time when the krogan, turians, asari, salarians and even humans were no more. He dreamed of a galaxy barren and stripped of life, as fire consumed everything. He dreamed of the end of all things.

"Brother!"

With a snarl Ravanor Kratok catapulted forwards, his hands already reaching for his shotgun, his blood simmering into a blood rage. He came to halt, when he recognized the interior of his humble office and excited face of his younger brother.

After a brief moment, he turned around to stare at his brother, Urloc. Leaning forwards like an eager varren pup, the younger krogan radiated excitement.

"What is it?" he mumbled, as the fog of blood rage began to retreat from his conscious. _It was just a dream, nothing more_.

"The slaves found something." Urloc simply responded, a hint of grin rising at the corners of his mouth.

"What. Is. It?" Kratok repeated once more, as if he were talking to an idiot. He didn't ask much from life, already inured to the galaxy being cruel to him, just because he was krogan. All that he wanted was the ability to enjoy eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. What he didn't need was to be awakened for the vaguest of reasons.

Urloc shook his head. Gods help him; sometime the pup could be so damned vague at times. Wearily Urloc raised himself from his simple mattress and threw on some manner of clothing. Krogan as a species, do not place much stock in modesty, but he was wise enough to bolt on a few pieces of armour. He was no fool.

As the pair made their way through the passages that snaked through the mantle of this rock, Kratok couldn't help but feel that something was different. His vorcha enforcers crowed together, their hackles raised and their eyes darting around. The human slaves sat silently in the pits, glancing at each other. Whatever Urloc had found, news of it had spread like wildfire throughout the mines.

Finally they reached their destination and Urloc gestured towards a darkened recess at the side of tunnel. _Ahh…tunnel 51_. For the past weeks, his workforce had hacked away at this corner of the mine, emboldened by the spike in eezo concentrations. The prospect of hitting the mother-lode of all eezo and the prospect of extra rations emboldened the human slaves. After all Kratok rewarded initiative, even if they were his property.

Lowering his bulk into the darkened recess, Kratok was struck by how _clean_ everything was. The dirt was neatly piled in the corners and the floor was smooth as if they had it had been swept clean. It wasn't until moments later that he saw _it_.

Words failed to describe it. In a galaxy filled with exotic architecture and unique species, it was still _alien_. Its curved profile stood in stark contrast to the blocky architecture of this world. Four curved columns intertwined together to support a dark, hollow sphere. Thick, segregated cables snaked out from its base and ended it crudely hacked ends. Someone or something had taken something to these cables and it was evident that the passage of time had been cruel to this _thing_. Yet it stood still and tall, defiant and indifferent to all those around.

Kratok shivered as he turned away from it. Whatever it was, it was clear that it been cast into this tunnel. And that his vorcha taskforce seemed to stay away from it. He noticed that the head foreman, a vorcha whom had survived the brutality of Hesktok, refuse to even glance in the general direction of the tunnel that held this _thing_.

"What do you think?" Urloc asked, with an eagerness that Kratok was surprised to see. Strange how his brother, a being whom preferred the embrace of heavy weapons and asari was suddenly interested in such an old thing.

"I think its some old junk of an object, from a dead race." Kratok indifferently replied "An interesting bauble to some archaeologist with too much time on their hands."

"You know there is a bounty on turning in prothean artefacts?" Urloc pointed out, his lips curling up in an avaricious smile.

"I know that the turians always dispatch a full taskforce to recover these artefacts." Kratok replied

"So what do we do with it?"

"Nothing…. For the moment." Kratok replied, as his mind began to form a plan. The shamans of clan Ravanor on Tuchanka would welcome such an _artefact. _On the black market such a device would fetch millions are architects would scramble over each other to even touch such an ancient device. Or he could sell it to the Citadel and receive the generous bounties they often rewarded. _So many options_

"Take to the storage bunker and lock it there." Kratok finally continued. He would make his decision later. He suddenly felt very tired.

From the corner of vision, he could have sworn he saw the dark orb light up for a second. _Nonsense_. He was simple tired. A few more hours of sleep, that's all he needed. A few more hours that's all.

* * *

_**Captain's Cabin**_

_**SSV Shanghai**_

_**Sharman System, Armstrong Nebula**_

Seated in his modest cabin, Murdoch replayed the interrogation in his head, mentally going over every detail once more. In front of him, his computer displayed the results of an extranet search on Digeris and the important contents of an outwardly humble file.

Digeris. Amazing how one word could suddenly become so important. Murdoch mulled over the word.

Alliance Naval Intelligence (ANI) had thrown a fit over his unorthodox interrogation of the batarian, citing "wilfully overstepping his duties as a naval captain, incompetently interrogating a suspect, blatantly ignoring the rules concerning prisoners of war…so and so forth." They demanded that he immediately await their representatives whom would pick up the captive and transport him to…somewhere.

The Batarian Hegemony had exiled themselves from the Citadel. As far as Murdoch was concerned that denied them the privilege of being subject to the Citadel Convention of Warfare.

Despite losing its collective, ANI had been merciful enough to pass on pertinent information concerning suspected links to Digeris, with the dire warning that if he lost the data a summary execution would be the least of his concerns.

History recorded Digeris as the bloodiest battle in the turian history, with krogan warlords bombarding the planet and the subsequent orbital battle waged between the turian navy and the krogan fleet. ANI labelled it as home to one of the Hierarchy's most militant members and the berthing place for the Turian 21st Legion, the toughest military unit in Hierarchy space. Several companies were labelled as fronts for turian intelligence and one maintained trading relationships with several terminus worlds.

As far as Murdoch could tell Digeris could mean a number of different things. It could be a world, a code, a vessel or even a name. He was tempted to interrogate the captive once more, but the doctor had informed him that the patient had lapsed into a coma and would not be answering any more questions for the foreseeable future.

His omni-tool buzzed, alerting him to priority message from the CIC. Slapping it, he activated his communication link with the bridge of the _Shanghai_.

"Captain here." He acknowledged. He had specifically ordered not to be interrupted unless it was important, but the truth was that he welcomed the distraction. Staring the screen in front of him had driven him to distraction and he relished any excuse to leave his quarters.

"Priority hail from _Carthage_, sir." The _Shanghai's_ executive officer dutifully reported.

Murdoch lips curled into a frown. The _SSV Carthage_ was one of the frigates assigned to his flotilla. Last time he checked it was the terminus end of the Armstrong Nebula, sweeping through the asteroids fields for any pirates.

"Read it." Murdoch curtly ordered

"Have intercepted hierarchy registered _Thanaxos- _class freighter." The XO read out, pausing before continuing "Registry tags vessel as _MSV Pride of Digeris_. Captain refuses to respond to hails and is one heading towards cluster's mass relay."

It would appear that serendipity was well and truly alive in modernity. Murdoch allowed the ghost of smile to tug at the corners of his lips, as a plan of action formed in his mind.

"Order _Carthage_ to maintain tail of the _MSV Pride of Digeris _beyond its sensor range." Murdoch curtly ordered. If memory served him right, the sensor domes onboard those freighters were distinctly underpowered in comparison to the standard Alliance issue.

"Order the rest of the flotilla to form up at the nebula's mass-relay. Bring _Shanghai_ to battle-stations and prep our boarding parties." Murdoch continued before adding once more "Get me all pertinent information on _Pride of Digeris'_ captain."

"Yes, sir"

Murdoch smiled, as the ship's VI downloaded all the registry information on the _Pride of Digeris_.

"Got you." He whispered to himself as he prepared to head into the CIC of the _SSV Shanghai_.

2 Hours later.

* * *

_**Chalk 2**_

_**20,000 klicks off Armstrong Nebula's Mass Relay**_

Even Ashley Williams had to wonder whether half the company would be enough to search the _Thanaxos- _class freighter. Measuring in at nearly double the length of the _SSV Shanghai _and large enough to rival the largest of Turian dreadnaughts, this freighter had enough capacity to start up a colony of its own.

She was the _MSV Pride of Digeris_. At least that's the registry called her. A colonial support vessel she plied goods and supplies to the farthest colonies at the borders of civilized space and beyond. Her massive holds could carry prefabricated housing units, all-terrain rovers and even an entire armoured division, _if_ her captain was willing.

"_MSV Pride of Digeris_." Ashley listened in to the conversation between the _Shanghai_ and the _Pride of Digeris_, as it played over the Kodiak's speakers. For weeks the _Shanghai_ and her flotilla had been scouring the cluster for a band of slavers that had the border colonies hard for the past weeks.

Two colonies outright kidnapped. Survivors of those brutal raids reported the slavers using sophisticated weaponry and perhaps most disquietedly heavy combat mechs. With that level of sophistication, there had to be a slaver command vessel nearby.

"_Captain Heratus. This is Captain Murdoch the SSV Shanghai of the Systems Alliance Navy. Power down your engines and heave to. This is your final warning."_

Seconds passed and Ashley closer her eyes as the tension ratcheted up in the confines of the dropship. The troopers around her began to prep their helmets for zero-g combat, when suddenly the clipped tones of a decidedly irritated Turian captain flooded over the comm. network.

"_SSV Shanghai. This is the MSV Pride of Digeris. What is the meaning of this? I'm hauling a new generator for retrofit from one of __**your**__ colonies and I'm already three days late!"_

"_MSV Pride of Digeris, under Article XIV of the Citadel Naval Enforcement Act, you will heave to and power down your engines. We will open fire if we have to."_

Silence reigned once more, as nearly every alliance member in the system listened intently. Would the _Pride of Digeris_ believe that Murdoch was bluffing? After what seemed a tense eternity, the resigned voice of the _Pride of Digeris'_ captain materialized once more.

"_SSV Shanghai, this is MSV Pride of Digeris. We are powering down our engines."_

"_Excellent, you will accept our inspection parties and cooperate with them."_

"_As if we had a choice."_

Ashley flashed a thumbs up at her fellow marines in the cramped confines of the UT-47 dropship. Beside her, Corporal Samuel Behari; the squad leader of Hunter 2-2 grinned and rose to his feet.

"Alright marines!" He barked "Time to pull trade!"

* * *

_**CIC**_

_**SSV Shanghai**_

_**Armstrong Nebula (20,000 klicks off Nebula's Mass Relay)**_

The tension was palpable in the CIC, as Hunter Company boarded the _MSV Pride of Digeris_. They may be heavily armed, but for all intents and purposes the ball was in freighter's court.

If the captain was truly guilty, there was really nothing the assembled Alliance warships could do to prevent the captain from flashing his eezo drive and taking a hundred four marines with him to the grave.

Nor was there anything to prevent the freighter from jumping to FTL through the alliance blockade and taking down a frigate with him. They claimed that built in safety measures prevented such a manoeuvre, but Murdoch was hesitant to test another's assurances.

"Order the _Scheldt_ to lock onto the freighter's engines." He ordered "Signal the _Carthage _to target his cockpit. Signal both captains to fire on _my_ mark only"

Satisfied for the moment, Murdoch leaned back and let the comm. chatter of Hunter Company's marines wash over him. All that he could do now was wait and see what would happen.

If the fates were kind, he would have nabbed one of the biggest slaving operations in this sector. If they weren't…at the very least he's ensure that two human colonies had been avenged.

* * *

_**Cargo Bay**_

_**MSV Pride of Digeris**_

_**Armstrong Nebula**_

Ashley didn't think it was possible, but the _Pride of Digeris_ only seemed bigger on the inside. The cavernous cargo bay could swallow the entire _SR1 Normandy_ and still have plenty of room to spare.

She stood at attention, nominally flanking Lt. Jeremiah Guo of Second Platoon, as they stood above the cargo bay on one of the catwalks. In actuality she was on overwatch, making sure the edgy crew didn't try anything…_untoward_. .

Yet that didn't stop the batarian first mate, loudly protesting every move the marines made.

"Hey be careful with that!" He barked, as a squad of Alliance marines began to methodically open every box in one corner of the cargo bay "That's supposed to be airtight!"

"Sir, with all due respect." Lt. Guo interrupted, with rapidly rising irritation "The less you interfere with us, the sooner we can get off your boat and the sooner we can all get back to work."

The batarian harrumphed in irritation, as he watched marines trudge through the cargo bay, opening boxes and scanning nearly every centimetre with their omni-tools. A few metres away from her, a pair of batarian deckhands engaged in idle chatter with each other, no doubt critiquing the humans' performance

To her surprise the crew of the turian vessel were a motley collection of mostly batarians with a few vorcha. The captain, a turian with gold and grey tattoos, claimed that many were former batarian slaves whom had escaped the Hegemony, but she didn't buy it. There was just something in the way the crew's motions, their movements efficient. Even when they lounged in their deck gear, it seemed practiced and disciplined

"2-3." Lt. Guo rasped into his throat mike "What's the hold up there?"

"Uhh…our tech had to reconfigure her omni-tool here."

"Reconfigure?"

"She says Aldrin Labs' new system update screwed up her omni-tool, says she need a few minutes."

"Tell her I don't want her techno-babble excuse and that we still got the rest of the vessel to search through."

"Yes Eltee, I'll be sure to pass it on to her."

Lieutenant Guo hissed as he cut the link. From the time Ashley had spent with the Guo, she knew that for the next few moments he would be extremely unpleasant to hang around. Accustomed to everything working by clockwork, his irritation would bubble to the surface whenever something screwed up. Which happened nearly every time, this being the real world.

"Chief." Guo curtly ordered "Get down there and make sure they do it _properly_."

Suddenly a loud blast erupted, momentarily silencing all activity in the cargo hold. A small white cloud rose from one corner of the bay, followed shortly by smoke and distinct smell of charred flesh and throat rasping scent of explosives.

From the corner of her eye, she caught the batarian 'mechanic' activate his omni-tool and aim it in her direction. The glowing outline of three impossibly sharp blades began to materialize, as the world around her began to slow down.

With barely less than six feet between them, there was very little Ashley could do. In the time it would take for her pull her sidearm from its holster, three ballistic blades would have lodged themselves in her face. By the time to bring her assault rifle up to bear, the batarian would have already fired off his payload. So there was really only one thing she could do.

Ashley charged her attacker, catching the surprised batarian in a powerful rugby tackle. The force of the impact lifted the batarian up and then over the railing that separated the catwalk from the cargo bay.

She briefly caught the image of Lieutenant Guo caught up in a desperate brawl with another batarian, until the pair of them fell. And then all hell broke loose

Captain William Murdoch snapped forward in his command chair as the entire crew of in the CIC heard the distinctive sound of a gunshot.

"Mark, Mark!" He barked over the flotilla's network. Seconds later the _SSV Carthage_ fired a calculated shot that ripped through the forward cockpit of the _MSV Pride of Digeris_. The _SSV Scheldt_ followed it up with a lance of shots that ploughed through the massive engines of the _Thanaxos- _class freighter.

"Full hits, Captain." His executive officer reported, even as his sensors painted him the picture of the freighter floating helplessly in the void.

"Get Hunter Company on the horn. Tell the cruisers _Moscow _and _Paris_ to prep their companies for immediate zero-g assault. Order all other vessels to pull back to 10 kilometres"

_50 kilometres_. Would it be enough if the enormous freighter decided to detonate its mass effect core?

* * *

_**Cargo Bay**_

_**MSV Pride of Digeris**_

_**Armstrong Nebula**_

The pair of them crashed onto the deck of the cargo bay, in the midst of chaos as marines and slavers fought with each other in the belly of the _MSV Pride of Digeris_. Shakily, Ashley rolled off the still batarian, her hands clutching at her sidearm, as she brought it to bear.

A trail of blood that leaked from the batarian's lips and the crooked angle his neck laid at bared the truth of what happened.

Before she could comprehend her handiwork, a loud shotgun blast erupted from behind her, the slug missing her head by inches. Instinctively Ashley hurled herself into cover, even as the second blast slammed against her kinetic barriers.

Even as she slid into cover, Ashley was already reaching for her assault rifle, the weapon unfurling as it slid into her hands. Pulling it off her bandolier, Ashley panned her head around seeking targets to engage.

From over her shoulder and around the cargo crates she heard the distinctive _klink_ and hiss that accompanied an overheated thermal clip being ejected. _2 shots_. Had to be a Wraith or Raider shotgun. _Not good_. In these confines, the high powered shotgun would blast through her shields and rip through the armour plates.

Stacked up behind a tower of cargo crates, Ashley could hear the fighting that raged around her in the cargo bay. She knew, at that moment, her opponent was stalking around the crates, but damned if she knew where he was. If she tried to run now, the shotgun would tear through her shields and out her back. She needed to know where he was and she needed to know now.

A snarling vorcha raced around the corner and on pure instinct she gunned it down. Even as the rounds ripped through his light armour and tore into his organs, she was already cursing herself. _Idiot!_ The batarian had doubtlessly sacrificed his comrade to learn her position.

It was time to improvise. If the vorcha came around the left side that meant that her opponent would be coming around the right side. That meant she would pirouette to her left and hit him where he least expected. Unless that's what he expected and in that case she should go to the right…unless he was expecting that…

Shaking her head, Ashley did what she always did. Went with her gut instinct. Grabbing one of the inferno grenades of her bandolier she chucked it around the right corner of the crate. Bouncing off another gargantuan crate, the grenade rebounded around the corner and out of sight.

Her keen ears caught the muffled curse and the distinct clatter as her opponent scurried backwards. Leaning around the corner, she aimed down her sights and then pulled the trigger.

It was said that if there was one product that propelled Elkoss Combine to the heights of its industry, it was the M8 Avenger Assault Rifle. Whilst not the first thermal-clip weapons to make it to the market in the wake of the Battle of the Citadel, it was the first fully-automatic rifle that delivered on the manufacturer's promise of reliability. Its modular design allowed militaries and mercenaries to change and modify to their heart's content, without compromising its effectiveness.

Its blunt, bland design won it few awards in the aesthetics department, but every grunt swore by its fully automatic firepower.

Her beloved and heavily modified X8g-Avenger assault rifle vomited a hail of slugs. Magnetically propelled with the force of a runaway train, the rounds slammed into the small of her opponent's back. Wearing light armour, the batarian's shields flared for a moment and then died as the armour plates failed. Pitching forward, the batarian was fell face-first onto the floor, screamed once and then fell silent.

Keeping her rifle trained on the still form of the batarian, Ashley carefully retrieved her un-activated inferno grenade. For a second a grin crossed her face, as she mentally crowed over the success of her bluff.

She quickly snapped to reality, as she realized her precarious position. Trapped in the cargo bay, separated from her comrades, she was literally in the belly of the best. Bravely the urge to charge through the cargo bay, she snapped her assault rifle up and began to methodically work her way through the maze of cargo crates.

She made it only a few metres, before another explosion caught her attention. Carefully making her way past the stacked crates and pens, her suit-radio began to break through whatever jamming the batarians had set up.

"This is Hunter 2-3 to all units. Be advised, we've encountered two heavy mech units; YMIR-class. We've engaged the first one, be advised we've lost contact with the second one."

"_Where could it be?_" Ashley though to herself, as she neared Hunter 2-3. YMIR units were not known for their initiative or independence. They followed a set of rules the governed the list of targets they engaged. For one to willingly leave an engagement, meant only one thing. _A human operator_.

Seconds later, the crates in front of her erupted in a cloud of debris, steel and wood, as the gargantuan form of an YMIR mech stomped towards her.

* * *

_**Planet X91**_

_**Nemean Abyss**_

Ravanor Kratok awoke once more, this time not due to his brother. The distinctive rumble and shudder that accompanied a class six mining explosive ran through the mines.

_By the maw of Kalros! _Kratok snarled as he rose from his bed. He hadn't authorized the use of explosives and there was no need to waste any of his precious stockpiles. Throwing on his armour, he stomped out of his quarters and into the mine.

Grumbling to himself, he made his way through the tunnels that snaked through his mines. Momentarily irritated at the absence of his brother, he belatedly realized that the Urloc must have set out towards Omega.

For a second, he was completely at a loss as to why his brother would head towards Omega, until he belatedly realized why. _Yes…_He remembered now: to pick up more slaves to use for expansion in the southern tunnels.

The mines rumbled once more and Kratok quickened his pace. If those idiots were wasting explosives uselessly, he swore that he would make their deaths as painful and drawn out as possible.

Turning the corner, he realized he was headed straight towards where the artefact. _What was happening?_ Quickening his pace to that of a jog, the large krogan barrelled through the mines, past the groups of slaves whom gawked at the sight of full-size krogan powering past them.

As he finally arrived, he was greeted by the sight of two groups of vorcha brawling with each other. Huddled in the corner, the slaves cowered away from the mass of snapping teeth and frenzied limbs.

Kratok bellowed with a fury he hadn't felt in years. _By Norda's Bones!_ The last thing he needed was to have his enforcers kill each other over some quarrel. Launching himself into the melee, he smashed flash and crushed bone, handing out punishment without quarter or mercy.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the vorcha managed to separate themselves from each other and Kratok was left standing in the centre of a mass of wheezing, battered, wounded vorcha.

He was distinctly aware of a trail of blood that ran down the right side of his face and the orange splash of blood that soaked the right side of body. But he maintained his glowering stare of the vorcha foreman.

"What. Is. The. Meaning. Of. This." He growled, his bass voice carrying his rage at being awakened from his precious sleep.

Clutching the side of his face, as orange blood dripped down his neck, the vorcha foreman pointed to behind Kratok. Keeping one of eyes on the vorcha around him, Kratok turned to regard what the vorcha was pointing at.

Where there once was a dark, smooth recess that lead to where the "artefact" sat, was not a pile of rubble and rocks. For a few seconds Kratok stared incomprehensively at it, unable to process the magnitude of what he had just lost. Then finally, he reacted. Violently.

Lunging to his right, his fingers curled around the neck of the vorcha foreman. Did these idiots even know what they had cost him?

"Why?" He asked, as a cold rage gripped his hearts. The vorcha foreman struggled helplessly in his grip, unable to speak as the pressure began to build around his neck.

"EVIL!" Something shrieked behind him and he turned around to regard the source. A single, spindly vorcha had separated itself from its peers and was staring at him. Missing an eye and sporting a crooked limb, the vorcha managed the almost impossible goal of being even uglier than the norm for its species.

"What?" Kratok asked, as he tried to make sense of what this _fool_ said.

"IT'S EVIL!" the vorcha shrieked once more, gesturing wildly in the direction of the massive pile of rubble and rocks "IT TWIST OUR DREAMS, HAUNT OUR THOUGHTS! WE DESTROY IT; WE SLEEP!"

Kratok stared at the vorcha whom ranted and raved in front of it. Vorcha, as a species, were not known for their firm grasp on the concepts of law and morality. Violence being their default form of communication, concepts such as a right and wrong did not have a place in their society.

The fact that one vorcha was able to label a single object as _evil_, should have warned Kratok that something was amiss, that there was something to be feared. But he was krogan and they do not broker treason or fear.

With roar, Kratok swept his arm forward, his powerful forearm catching the vorcha full in the face. The force of the blow was enough to sever the creature's spine and like a sack of bricks it fell backwards into the dirt. For added measure, Kratok lumbered forwards and pounded the creature's chest with his foot converting the vorcha's bones and organs into a fine paste.

Glowering all around him, he caught the sight of the vorcha casting their eyes downward as they meekly submitted to him. As he stared around him, finally the angry haze began to recede from his mind.

Kratok contemplated his next plan of action. Obviously he needed to recover the artefact and fast. The sooner he got that thing off his rock, the better…or maybe not, he couldn't be too sure.

Suddenly he felt a weariness sweep over him. He had been working himself too hard over the past few days. He needed a break. _Yes…Perhaps a day off_.

"Send the slaves back to their quarters." He mumbled in the general direction of the vorcha foreman "Two days break, that's all you lot get. Then it's back to work."

* * *

_**Cargo Bay**_

_**MSV Pride of Digeris**_

_**Armstrong Nebula**_

Deep in the belly of the freighter, Ashley William's lungs burned for air, as she ran through the maze of crates and cartons. Seconds later the box beside her erupted in confetti of debris and parts, as the YMIR fired its Mass-Accelerator Machine Gun.

Ducking away from the stream of fire, Ashley rolled to the side and let off a burst that caught the YMIR in the head. Barely denting its onboard kinetic barriers, the YMIR's head swivelled to face her as its arm came up to bear.

Ashley turned and ran once more, though not before hurling her last inferno grenade straight into its face. A fiery flower blossomed into existence as the flames began to lick against the mech's strong shields. Temporarily blinded, the machine fired blindly, the rounds spiralling away to rip into boxes and crates.

"Williams, here!" She bawled over the platoon's comm. network "I've located the second mech!"

"Copy that Chief." The static laced voice of Hunter 2-1's squad leader replied "Mark your position and we can give you support."

"Scratch that." Ashley snapped back, seconds before she ran smack into a surprised batarian. Bowling the snarling biped over, she barely paused to put a round through its midsection. Seconds later, the batarian and the area immediately behind her were saturated with a cavalcade of slugs.

Hurling herself into cover, Ashley fought to keep her breathing under control. The enormous battle mech, lumbered through the maze of crates, pausing every few seconds to fire off a salvo of rounds in a random direction. Another batarian nearby was shredded in a hail of fire.

_Autopilot_. Ashley realized that whoever was controlling the YMIR mech was now dead or out of action. Every month a new software update, promising the end to targeting errors. And every month the amount of fratricide rates amongst its owners skyrocketed.

Ashley fought through the adrenaline haze, letting her fear add a sense of urgency to her mental calculations. The longer the monstrous mech was in play, the higher the odds went up of a marine being killed by it.

"Hunter 2-1, mark your position." She snapped. Seconds later an electronic ping materialized on her HUD; highlighting the approximate position of Hunter 2-1.

"Headed towards you now. Prep all entry points with mines, grenades, what ever." Ashley continued, as a desperate plan began to form in her mind "Advice all squads to avoid engagement with YMIR, until my signal."

"Copy that chief. What you're thinking?"

"Am bringing a bit fat target, your way. Think you can handle it?"

"Always. Good hunting."

Sliding out from cover, Ashley leaned out and fired a burst. Slicing through the air, the magnetically accelerated rounds crashed into the 'skull' of the YMIR mech. Smashing against its shields, her HUD indicated she chipped away maybe 10% of its shields.

Its glowing red "eye" swivelled to stare down at her and the machine began to ponderously raise its guns to bear down on her. In that second Ashley's mind screamed in terror and for the first time in her life, she gave in to that terror. She ran.

A cavalcade of fire chased her through the belly of the freighter. Frantically she ducked and dived through the remains of packing crates and over the corpses of mercenaries. She caught the slack-jawed expression of dead batarian mercenary, propped against a box as a pool of blood spread out from underneath him, and then she was away running as fast as she could.

In her mind's eye, the stream of glowing slugs seemed to grow closer, inching its way towards her. Her lungs burned with the effort and her legs began to ache but still her body, in its adrenaline fuelled high, pushed her to and beyond her limits.

_Your not gonna make it_. A corner of her mind whispered, as a rocket sailed overhead and detonated in a shower of shrapnel that halved her shields.

_Shut up. _Ashley jumped over a fallen crate, barely dodging the rapidly stiffening corpse of a fallen vorcha whom clutched at stumpy of its severed arm. A corner of her hind, blithely noted then stench that emanated from it and then she was away.

_You not going to make it, Ash…_The dark, sardonic side of her mind whispered once more. It was always like this. Sometimes when she was in a middle of something, her doubts would rise to the surface once more. It had been like this in training, where she once questioned the wisdom of serving in an organization that had blacklisted her family based on one incident.

Yet she thrived in moments like these, when her mind and the universe seemed to conspire against her. Let them try to stop her, to sabotage her, hell even kill her. She was Ashley _fucking_ Williams and she was not going to die at the hands of a poorly programmed battle mech in the belly of some tramp freighter.

Lunging through the gap between two enormous durasteel crates, she flew for a few feet before crashing to the floor. Her energy spent, she craned her neck to look behind her, even as she abstractly noted the presence of several improved explosives.

"2-1?" She queried, looking around her. Silence greeted her over the comm. channel. Seconds later, the steady thumping and the whine of overstressed actuators heralded the arrival of the YMIR.

"2-1?" She repeated, desperately this time as the YMIR mech loomed in her field of vision and stared down at her.

With mechanical indifference it raised its mass-accelerator machine gun towards her, even as a corner of Ashley's mind noted the distorted armour plates and flickers of static electricity that danced around its body. Surrounding and its feet, the makeshift explosives stayed indolently silent.

"2-1!" She screamed "Blow it! Blow the damned charges!"

After what seemed an eternity, just as the machine gun aligned on her, a fiery orange cloud formed at the YMIR's base and then raced up its form. Flame, heat and force sucked at its kinetic barriers and battered against its armoured skin.

Rising up from hidden positions around her, fellow marines launched a continuous barrage of slugs. One marine, from on top of an armoured crate wielded a heavy grenade launcher that belched a rhythmic storm of 25mm projectiles which tore into the YMIR mech.

Unable to withstand the sudden flood of fire, the YMIR mech staggered backwards and then slumped towards the ground as the rounds continued to crash into it. A lucky round caught the mech in the centre of its 'eye' and tore the rest of its 'head' off.

The mech's corpse began to emit a rapidly accelerating pulse of light and Ashley heard someone cry out

"It's gonna blow!"

Seconds later the YMIR detonated in a fierce, red mushroom cloud that hurled debris and shrapnel all around her. Even as Ashley contracted into a ball, in an instinctive manoeuvre to save her skin, a corner of her mind casually quipped that the manufacturer of those mechs actually marketed the near-nuclear explosion as an actual feature.

Silence finally returned to the cargo hold of the _MSV Pride of Digeris_. The crash of impacting debris heralded the end of battle, as its echo reverberated that harkened unto the sardonic applause of the gods of war whom enjoyed their sport.

Ashley turned round to chastise the squad leader of Hunter 2-1, for not responding to her hails, until another marine pointed at her helmet.

Her hand rose up to tactilely examine her helmet and she was suddenly aware of an enormous dent at the side. Disengaging the seals and peeling the helmet off, she stared down at the distorted and near shredded plating that normally covered the left side of her face. The remains of her built in comm. unit dangled helplessly out the side.

_At least the helmet worked_. She mentally quipped, even as she already motioned Hunter 2-1 forward.

After all they had a captain to meet.

* * *

_**Upper Level**_

_**MSV Pride of Digeris**_

_**Armstrong Nebula**_

In the end it was almost anti-climatic. They found Lieutenant Guo standing over the corpses of two batarians, one of them with an extra hole in the centre of its forehead and the other sporting a series of vicious stab wounds.

That was not to say that it had been easy. Hunter 2-3 suffered five KIA, as the crate they had been investigating detonated when they had tripped one of the nearby mines. It had been on a stroke of luck that one of second platoon's techs activated their jamming VI; otherwise another series of mines planted around the cargo bay would have detonated.

Whilst Hunter 2 battled in the belly of the beast, Hunter 1, 3 and 4 had secured the auxiliary bridge, engineering and the core room in the meanwhile. Major Chatterjee himself had personally apprehended the turian captain, whom was now cuffed under the withering glare of his marine guards.

A spindly, elderly example of his species, the captain sported a pair of faded golden markings. A far cry from the relatively simple blue designs that Vakarian wore; these markings had once been elaborate engravings that used to dance across his entire face. Now, they were merely a shadow of their former selves.

Yet even after apprehending the 'captain', there had been a complication. In the chaos that had erupted, the turian captain had fired a transmission to the closest Hierarchy naval vessel, which had been merely a cluster away. And now they waited whilst a turian party boarded the vessel.

The hiss and whine of _MSV Pride of Digeris' _docking seals heralded the arrival of their new guest. Flanked by a pair of burly bodyguards, the Hierarchy naval captain swept onto the deck of the freighter.

A far cry from the elderly wreck that was the _Pride of Digeris'_ captain, this turian could have stepped out from the recruiting poster of C-Sec. Dressed in the formal attire of Hierarchy's 15th Naval Fleet, the turian sported five bars and a pair of emblazoned crossed talons; an _Admiral_.

However what caught her and every other human's attention in the room, was the identical pair of golden markings the new arrival sported; _same clan_

"Major Chatterjee, I presume." The new arrival spoke, in an accent that despite the metallic flanging inherent to his species, sounded posh and stiff as he formally saluted.

"Admiral Nastreus Braetorion, I believe." Major Chatterjee replied, as he returned the salute.

"It is my understanding that you hold a citizen of the Turian Hierarchy."

"Yes, captain." Chatterjee, a hint of reluctance in his voice.

Only an hour ago, Arcturus had advised the _Shanghai_ and her battle-group to release the captured turian to the Hierarchy, citing the Citadel Convention on Warfare. Citadel governments were to charge, convict or absolve their own citizens.

As the Hierarchy lacked the power to judge a human citizen, so too did the Systems Alliance lack the power to judge a turian citizens. Batarians, vorcha, krogan and quarians were the exception as none held a seat in Citadel space.

"Please release him into my custody." Nastreus continued, as if they were merely exchanging merchandise not an individual whom ran a slaving operation.

"You are aware of the _nature_ of the charges and the _evidence_ against him." Chatterjee countered, as a note of anger made itself known in his voice.

Hunter 2-2 had found a disguised crate that had once held twenty humans in cramped conditions. Only eight had survived the fighting that had erupted, as a hail of slugs had ripped through the siding.

Nearly fifty other terrified human slaves had been found in the belly of the _MSV Pride of Digeris_. Nearly all sported evidence of having cranial control implants forced into their skulls. Some of them were children.

By all the laws of man and god, the turian captain should have been hanging from a yardarm.

"Are you aware of whom this man once was?" Nastreus riposted "His name graces the history of the 15th fleet and the Krogan Rebellions."

"He also ran a slaving operating that burned down two of our colonies and enslaved at least sixty of _my_ species." Chatterjee countered, a snarl briefly crossing his face.

The tension in the air was palpable, as marines began to finger their weapons. The battle to retake the _MSV Pride of Digeris_ had been brutal, as both sides made use of the cramped confines onboard the freighter.

Twenty good marines had been killed in action and twelve more were severely wounded. The marines were in no mood to give up a slaver, no matter of who he was.

"He is also a citizen of my government and your allies." Nastreus leaned over Chatterjee; bringing the full weight of his voice to bear, "Your parliament was aware of what might happen when your species joined the Citadel."

Chatterjee stared down Nastreus, disgust evident in his face as the two turian bodyguards nearby tensed up, ready for action. Finally Chatterjee broke eye contact, momentarily defeated by the facts and reality, silently assenting.

Nodding silently Nastreus, motioned at his two bodyguards to take possession of the turian slaver. Marching forwards, the bodyguards immediately cut through the makeshift cuffs that snaked around the prisoner's wrists and pulled him into a standing position. Both sides diplomatically ignored the human marine whom spat quite loudly.

"Strength and Honour to you." The turian prisoner greeted his military brethren, as a relieved smile crossed his lips.

"Strength and Honour to clan Braterion" Admiral Nastreus Braterion tonelessly replied, before asking, "How do you wish to be judged?"

"I demand the clan judge me."

"Do you now?"

The turian slaver blinked once, apparently surprised by the admiral's response, before replying "Yes, yes I do."

"You are aware that you accept whatever judgement the clan decides."

"Yes, yes, _boy_. I accept. Can we go back to Palaven _now_?"

"That's Admiral to you. And we are not going anywhere."

"What?"

"How do you plead?"

"Not guilty!" the turian slaver desperately hissed, as he glanced at the two stern turian bodyguards whom loomed beside him.

"Major Chatterjee, has the nature of the evidence changed between the time the Hierarchy contacted your government and my arrival?" Admiral Nastreus queried, seemingly unconcerned by the nervous member of his species in front of him.

"No, Admiral." Chatterjee replied. Data recordings from the vessel's central computer, human bodies found in his hold, crates of cranial control implants, captured humans and the presence of several batarian slavers. All in all it was damning evidence.

"Do you swear this on the bones of your ancestors and the spirits of your species, Major Chatterjee?"

"Indeed." Chatterjee affirmed, as a look of comprehension dawned on his face.

"I see." Admiral Nastreus Braeterion replied, before drawing himself up to his full height.

The marines stared at the regal sight of a turian naval admiral, resplendent in his polished and starched uniform, as he lay down judgement on the 'prisoner' in front of him.

"Kurliunius Braeterion, formerly of the 15th fleet and seventh tier citizen. Under the laws of our shared blood and by the powers entrusted unto me by the council of Autarchs of the Turian Hierarchy, I find you _guilty_."

The convicted slaver gawked in shock as the turian officer drew an ornate blade from his sheath. Grasping the back of slaver's carapace, the admiral pulled the newly convicted criminal's head back as he stared the _MSV Pride of Digeris' _captain full in the eyes.

"Take heart, Kurliunius." The admiral reverently spoke, even as he braced the blade against the convict's neck "Perhaps the spirits may recognize your prior bravery. Perhaps they may not. May your deeds be measured in full, clan brother."

In a sudden, smooth motion Admiral Nastreus Braeterion of the Hierarchy Naval Forces, executed Kurliunius Braeterion formerly of the 15th fleet. Gently he laid the newly convicted captain onto the ground, even as blue blood gushed out of slaver's deep wound and stained his own uniform.

Minutes passed as the admiral held the hand of the rapidly dying slaver as his body convulsed and spasmed. Finally when the convict's body finally lay silent, the admiral officiously rose to his feet.

"Thank you for handing custody of our citizen to us, Major Chatterjee." Admiral Nastreus Braeterion spoke, as he snapped off a crisp salute. "I hope that such acts of cooperation continue between our species."

The front of the admiral's uniform had been stained with blue blood of his species, but neither him nor did his bodyguards seem to care.

A few of the marines shuddered at the spectacle they had just witnessed. No stranger to the violence endemic to the Terminus systems and the worlds that bordered it, the sight of a turian admiral coldly passing judgement on a fellow member of his species still shook them.

"Of course, Admiral." Major Chatterjee returned the salute, a hint of shock in his actions. "Will you need the body?"

A glimmer of confusion crossed the admiral face and his bodyguards mirrored his expression. Finally understanding dawned on his face and the ghost of smile glimmered on his face.

"His spirit is gone, Major." He explained, as if he were educating a youngster "What use does the body have without its spirit. He will not need it, neither will we."

* * *

_**Chalk 2**_

_**Armstrong Nebula**_

Later in the belly of the UT-47 dropships, the exhausted marines sat in their jump-seats as they neared the welcome embrace of the _SSV Shanghai_. Major Chatterjee had passed word that _Shanghai_ would be returning to its patrol duties, but hinted that they would be allowed to relax for the next twenty four hours.

Ashley planned to catch a full-night's sleep as her body cried out in exhaustion. It was always like this. Immediately after a firefight, she wanted nothing more than to hit the sack. A brief wave of melancholy crossed her conscious as she was reminded of whose bed they had once shared; until she noticed one of the marines of Hunter 2-1 possessively clutch an unwieldy piece of military hardware.

"I do not recall Hunter 2-1, being issued a _grenade launcher_." She curtly intoned, even as she recognized the make and model of the weapon; an M-100 semiautomatic 25mm grenade launcher. Manufactured by Elanus Risk Control Services, it was widely favoured by mercenary bands across the galaxy.

"I found it, Chief. It's mine" The marine replied, pulling it closer to him as if it were a beloved toy instead of a deadly weapon of destruction. She prayed that its safety was on.

"Well it's the Alliance's now, _Private_ First Class Michael Soyinka." Ashley replied, before adding "Don't worry. I'll make sure you get to see her every night and we'll take good care of her."

It was a horrible joke, lacking the grace of subtlety that even the most average of stand-up comedians could make. Yet for some reason it started a snicker, which then progressed to fit of giggling and then finally erupted into a storm of laughter as the marines of Hunter 2-1 erupted in hysterical guffaws and chortles.

Stress did odd things to the mind.

* * *

_**10,000 kilometres off Omega station**_

_**Private Vessel**_

Seated in the bridge, Ravanor Urloc impatiently waited at the rendezvous coordinates. Floating around Omega Station, he awaited the _Pride of Digeris_. Two hours…two bloody, monotonous, boring hours he waited for the damnable freighter to show up.

Urloc sighed once more, his enormous lungs giving weight to his irritation. The two batarian pilots glanced nervously at the enormous krogan behind them and wisely held their tongue. Krogan as a species were not known for being kind to dissent from the ranks.

"He's not coming." The asari whom quietly stood by the Urloc' side finally spoke up.

Urloc growled irritably, miffed that he had wasted two of his precious hours and unhappy at the prospect of returning back to his elder brother empty handed.

"Uhh…we could purchase some labour from Omega, boss." One of the batarian crew helpfully suggested.

Urloc didn't even bother replying. Kratok had made it specifically clear. _Do not buy from Omega. Buy directly from the suppliers_. His brother was paranoid about a nosy scavenger questioning the bulk order of captives for some planet in the Nemean Abyss. If word got out soon they'd have to deal with competition, with hungry mercenaries whom would want a piece of their action.

Privately Urloc would welcome such a distraction. For the past 10 months, not even once he had fired his shotgun in anger. For the past 10 months the closest he had come to an honest to ancestors fight was breaking up the territorial brawls between his vorcha enforcers. The closest he had to action was with the asari beside him, her ferocity matching his when they rutted in his quarters.

She was an old acquaintance of him from his mercenary days after the embarrassment of Theshaca. For five years afterwards the pair had worked in a number of mercenary bands across the galaxy. Whether pulling high-grade security on worlds such as Illium or Trident, to taking part in slaving raids the pair of them had forged a bond.

He knew his brother frowned on his predilection for the asari, but in this galaxy the asari were the only beings capable of giving him children. Mating with krogan females was a task unto itself and he had long given up on returning to irradiated wasteland that was Tuchanka. No, his future lay outside of Tuchanka and he would seize it.

Till then, he would work with his brother. After all blood was thicker than water, or so the old human saying.

"Set course for home." He wearily ordered the pilots. At the very least they could sell the damned artefact if push came to shove. Or maybe _he_ could sell the artefact….

* * *

_**Codex Entry: Human Diplomatic Relations – Batarians**_

_**Amongst the dozens of new relations humanity has forged with ever since its ascension onto the intergalactic stage, none has been so influenced by suspicion, distrust or rivalry save that with the batarians. **_

_**In the early 2160s, humanity began an aggressive colonization of the Skillian Verge worlds. The batarian Hegemony protested this new expansion, arguing that humanity was unfairly grabbing worlds of batarian interest, especially garden worlds. **_

_**Tensions came to a head in the aftermath of the "Massacre of Mindoir" and the subsequent revelation that an overwhelming majority of the slavers were batarian. In the ensuring media coverage of the atrocities wrought by the slavers, anti-batarian sentiment rose within human space. **_

_**Violent confrontation became an almost daily occurrence between human and batarians, especially in the controversial "Las Vegas Incident" where a human mob attacked a pair of batarian businessmen. **_

_**In protest of the Council's refusal to back batarian colonization, the Hegemony closed its embassy. And so began an era marked by covert, brutal violence used by both sides. **_

_**The batarian efforts were marked by funnelling money and weapons to criminal organizations and slaving entities in the Terminus systems, encouraging them to strike at human colonies and interests. In some cases batarian Special Intervention Units were deployed to 'assist' and direct such activities.**_

_**Humanity responded by flooding the Skillian Verge with all available forces. Special Forces operatives were deployed into the Terminus itself and Alliance warships adopted a policy of firing on batarian-registered vessels. In a controversial move, Alliance Naval Intelligence supported and funded human warlords, including the late Lord Darius. **_

_**The closest the two sides came to open warfare was in the aftermath of the Skillian Blitz. In the aftermath of the Alliance's defence of the colony and destruction of the 'slaver' vessels, several batarians are identified as Hegemony military members; the first time any batarian was officially identified as an agent of their government. **_

_**Two years later, in Operation: Justice, the Systems Alliance launched two major offensives. Attacking slaver anchorages on Torfan and around Theshaca, the Alliance successfully destroyed key batarian military assets and their allies. In the aftermath humanity congratulated itself with triumphing over their rivals. It bears noting that at no time was a formal declaration of war was ever issued by either side. **_

_**Yet the end of the Eden-Prime war has started, what analysts fear, is a surge of slaver and pirate raids on Alliance border worlds. Whilst the Skillian Verge is dominated by the Alliance, the Navy's losses in fighting the geth had hampered the Alliance's efforts in protecting its colonists, a fact that many criminal entities have noted.**_


	5. Operation Shield - Part 2

"_What do I remember about Shanxi? Boredom, more boredom, then panic, sheer panic and then boom"_

_- __Anonymous Alliance veteran on his experiences of the siege of Shanxi__ -_

_I'm asking You God, to give me what You have left._

_Give me those things which others never ask of You._

_I don't ask You for rest, or tranquility._

_Not that of the spirit, the body, or the mind._

_I don't ask You for wealth, or success, or even health._

_All those things are asked of You so much Lord,_

_that you can't have any left to give._

_Give me instead Lord what You have left._

_Give me what others don't want._

_I want uncertainty and doubt._

_I want torment and battle._

_And I ask that You give them to me now and forever Lord,_

_so I can be sure to always have them,_

_because I won't always have the strength to ask again._

_But give me also the courage, the energy,_

_and the spirit to face them._

_I ask You these things Lord,_

_because I can't ask them of myself._

_- Paratrooper's Prayer by Aspirant (Brevet-Lieutenant) André Zirnheld, translated by Robert Petersen__ -_

_**12 months after the destruction of the SR1 Normandy**_

_**Planet X51**_

_**Nemean Abyss**_

Ravanor Kratok scowled as the wires sparked and sputtered in the bowls of the Sensor Array. Squatting beside the enormous array, he struggled to patch up the beaten sensors.

Purchased from the scrap yards of Omega, the sensor array formerly belonged to a Batarian _Thrasher_-class frigate, whose captain made the mistake of betraying Aria. The captain's remains, or what was left of him, were found in the waste of vorcha scavengers and warship's carcass was laid to rest in the great scrap yards of Omega.

Ravanor Kratok snarled as an errant wire spat sparks at his face sending the massive krogan rearing backwards. A brief twitch of shame crossed his conscious, before he smashed a wrench against the array's housing. Batarian State Naval Arms' products did always lack the sturdiness of their human counterparts, but Kratok had to make do.

Still despite the rather lackluster sensory apparatus, Kratok had to admit the past months had been good to him. Already the mines had workers, both enslaved and paid. Vorcha soldiers closely watched the mostly human slaves whom toiled mining the eezo nodules for him. Eschewing the rather heavy-handed tactics of his batarian counterparts, Kratok rewarded diligent workers with extra rations. However those, whom fell behind, ended up in the bellies of vorcha task-force.

The nightmares had thankfully stopped. The excavation of the tunnels continued, though his vorcha enforcers studiously avoided the cavern where the artifact had been found.

"Brother" A deep, bass voice rumbled over his shoulder. Kratok turned to regard his brother Urloc.

Framed by the doorway, Urloc leaned on its side a glum expression on his face.

Urloc had done…well. For the past few months he had steadily added to Kratok' supply of slaves. Forging independent contracts with slavers, the younger krogan had steadily added to the Kratok' workforce, allowing him to gradually expand the scope of his mining operations.

"Urloc, you have returned." Kratok rumbled in return, formally clasping his brother on the shoulder, "Why so glum?"

"The slaver captain did not show up." Urloc replied, shrugging his shoulders regretfully. "I think the humans caught him."

For some reason, that Kratok himself didn't know, he felt a wave of anger rise up within him. How much longer must he tolerate this younger fool in front of him? How much longer must he deal with the unimaginative idiot whom darkened his mines?

"You think?" Kratok thundered, his hackles rising, "Either you know or you don't."

Centuries-old instincts returned and he raised himself to his full height. Brother, Urloc may be, but the pup best know whom he was dealing with.

Urloc reared backwards, a snarl crossing his lips. He didn't know what had set off his brother, but he would be damned if he would allow himself to be treated like an insolent pup.

"I sent you to Omega, to get _one_ thing and one thing _only_." Kratok growled, as he raised himself up to his full height. "Bring. Me. Slaves!"

"And do what?!" Urloc snarled back "Attack the colonies myself? We tried that once brother. And how well did that turn out?"

Kratok didn't answer. It was not the Krogan way. A powerful backhand lifted Urloc up and over. As the younger krogan crashed to the floor, Kratok leaned forwards and pinned his younger brother with his massive bulk.

"I did not think you a coward, _brother_." Kratok growled into Urloc' ear, "You will honor my wishes and return back with slaves."

Urloc snarled back and for a moment Kratok tensed for a counter-attack. Krogans as a culture placed very little respect on the ideals of honor of loyalty. History had seen to that.

Perhaps out of wisdom or fear, Urloc closed his armored eye-lids and leaned back in submission. With a grunt, Kratok released his hold on his brother and coldly watched as Urloc rose to his legs.

"Where shall I begin? Respected _brother_." Urloc asked, drawing out the last syllable.

Momentarily ignoring his brother, Kratok pondered where to strike. _The Terminus Systems?_ No, nowadays many of the colonists took to purchasing quantities of security mechs to supplant their forces. _Hierarchy space?_ Only if he wanted to feel the wrath of the entire Turian military machine. _Asari space?_ Capturing organics alive was already a difficult task. Capturing an entire population of biotic sapiens was damned impossible.

_Human space!_ From the dark corners of his mind, an idea sprung out. _Yes…_The human navy had its hands full with their new responsibilities. A few quick slaver raids and soon his cache of humans would be large enough for processing…processing the eezo that is.

"Strike into the Attican Beta, brother." Kratok finally responded, "Strike them hard, take many of them captive. Kill those whom challenge you. This is our way."

"It will take a month at least to round up a crew to take the colonies." Urloc protested, as he nursed his wounded pride.

"Then you shall have a month." Kratok spat back "Go. Take the human colonies. Do not return back unless you have slaves."

Urloc was too busy nursing his wounded pride to notice the oddity of his brother's command. Frustrated with having been unfairly chastened, he retreated from Kratok's presence to round up some of his old contacts from their slaving days.

As his brother left his presence, with nary a backward glance, Kratok returned his attentions to the sensor array. A frown crossed his face and then he leaned forward into its guts and the krogan gave one final twist of the wrench. Moments later the gentle thrum of an active sensor array filled the caverns of this world and for the first time in ages Kratok smiled.

* * *

_**13 months after the destruction of the Normandy**_

_**Colonial Capital**_

_**Uqbar, Aaru System, Attican Beta **_

Governor Grossman allowed himself a deep breath as he savoured the evening air. Moments like these reminded him why he had left Benning and moved to the colonies. The air was clean, the soil was rich and the life was refreshingly straight-forward.

True, Uqbar's grain silos couldn't compare the glittering towers of Berkenstein, yet they contained the essentials to human civilization, not puffed-up executives and ditzy models. No, Uqbar was a good home and he would stay till the end of his days.

Though term "capital city" was really a bit of an exaggeration he had to admit. It was merely a humble collection of buildings that surrounded the administration buildings, merely a nexus for the planet's galactic trade. Grains, fruits, vegetables and even meat were the chief exports of Uqbar. It may not be sophisticated, but their produce would always been in demand.

A low thrum caught his attention and his eyes picked out distant object on the horizon. _Odd_. The freighters weren't due for another week and the harvest hadn't even begun. _Wait_. That was no ordinary freighter.

His blood froze when he finally recognized that the transports were heavily armed. _Slavers!_

The air-raid siren began to wail across the capital, as the colonists scrambled for shelter. Grossman ran towards the central communications array. Someone had to send a distress signal, now!

* * *

_**Armoury**_

_**SSV Shanghai, Attican Beta**_

Gunnery Chief Ashley Madeline Williams found increasingly difficult to concentrate over the incessant yammering of the _Shanghai_'s quarter-master and Corporal Samuel Behari as she tried to modify her beloved M8 Avenger.

"I'm telling you, he straight up walked to her and grabbed her ass." The quarter-master was in the middle of describing his latest visit to the clubs in the Bachjret Wards on the Citadel.

"You're telling me that an Alliance Special Forces soldier blatantly groped a fellow soldier?" Behari grunted as he shoved his hands deep into the inner workings of the company's M-100 Grenade Launcher.

"Indeed!" the quarter-master exclaimed, his arms wide open as he regaled the marine with his experiences "Next thing you know, she punches the dumb sod in the gut and starts screaming at him"

"Sucks for him" Behari quipped, as he carefully removed the shotgun's barrel and tried to solder onto it a bayonet lug.

"Sucked more when the krogan bouncer ripped his arm off and beat him to death with it." Was the quarter-master's deadpan response

"Wait, what? That's physically impossible!"

"Funny you should say that….that's what he was screaming the entire time!"

Ashley barely managed to conceal the grin that threatened to spread across her face. Shaking her head, she returned her attentions to her trusty assault rifle.

It was said that there were only two things that you could truly depend on in the Terminus Systems. The savagery of the krogan and an Avenger assault rifle. Soldiers and mercenaries swapped tales of being dumped in swamps, mountains and even open sewers and still having their Avenger operate properly.

It was said that one could execute HALO jump, fall through a jungle canopy, drown in an acidic lake and still the Avenger would work. You bury the weapon in the mud for a hundred years and still the damn thing would work. You could hand the weapon over to a child and within fifteen minutes it would be pouring fire downrange. Simple and effective, what every weapon should aim to be.

The Systems Alliance M8 Avenger was already manufactured and modified to the exacting standards of the Systems Alliance Navy. Yet Ashley believed that she could make the already reliable workhorse into a deadly harbinger of death and mayhem.

Even on her best day, Ashley knew she couldn't hope to compete with the brilliant minds of the galaxy's engineers. Drive core theory sounded like black-magic to her and AI programming drove her to distraction. But give her a practical problem and her inventive mind would devise a solution. For instance how to make the durable, dependable M8 Avenger into an even more deadly tool of war.

Carefully Ashley picked up a sonic 'driver' and carefully removed the pins that held the rifle together. Reverently she removed the stock, the receiver and the muzzle apart. The trigger assembly lay carefully at the side as Ashley quickly drained and isolated the rifle's internal eezo supply.

Finally Ashley located what she was looking for; the rifle's internal mass-field generator. While the standard issue generator was quite strong already, Ashley knew that it needed to be stronger, now that they had to deal with those new kinetic barriers

Ashley inwardly sighed as she reflected on the current state of galactic warfare. Shortly after the Battle of Citadel the Systems Alliance had started a mass rollout of all its new technology. Thermal clips to counter the increasing use of remote-sabotage and new shielding to give human squads a chance against biotic users.

She wasn't a fan of thermal clips, the progressive in her taken aback at the re-emergence of ammunition based weaponry, for all intents and purposes. Sure the clips allowed manufacturers to enlarge the firing chamber and they claimed that the clips could be cooled by whatever liquid on hand, be it water or urine. Sure it meant that if your weapon overheated you could resume fire quickly. But now, once again, soldiers were forces to rely on "ammunition", for all intents and purposes.

The new shield technology on the other hand, received her full approval. While she didn't fully understand the math behind it, but apparently the use of randomized oscillations in the shield emitters virtually nullified the damage inflicted by a biotic attack. It still hurt like a bitch, but going up against a biotic user was no longer the death sentence it once was.

Renewing her attentions on the disassembled Avenger rifle, she carefully extracted the internal mass-field generator. With the utmost reverence she gently carried it and set it down beside her on the work-bench. Fishing out a pair of pliers and a soldering pin, she began work on the generator's own capacitors. She had theory that if she could re-jig the wiring around, she could slap in another pair of capacitors and boost the generator's output. In theory at least.

"All marine personnel, report to briefing room alpha!" The Intercom squawked. Ashley glanced up, irritated at the interruption. Such was life.

* * *

_**Colonial Capital**_

_**Uqbar, Aaru System, Attican Beta **_

Grossman struggled to keep his hands from shaking, as he nervously gripped the rifle that had been shoved into his hands. Around him the men and women of the colony's meagre militia ran towards the makeshift barricade that had been set up around the small colonial capital. Only a handful of them had actually seen combat and that was at Shanxi. Many were too old to bear arms and a few were too young.

The opposing slavers were a frightening collection of some of the dreaded sentients in the known galaxy. The colony's small collection of drones managed to snap a series of shots until a missile had blown them to shreds. Gargantuan krogans, grim batarians, slavering vorcha and even a dreaded asari huntress advanced towards the meagre barricades, unaware of the armed militia's prescience.

"Hold…" The militia captain snarled over the comm. unit. If they timed it right, the slavers would walk right into their trap. If they failed….

"Oh fuck me, they got Vorcha!" A nervous militia-man wept over the comms.

"What was he doing here?" Grossman wondered to himself. He hadn't signed up for this. Where was the Navy? Where were the marines?

A single panicked shot rang out from the barricades and tore into one vorcha mercenary. The powerful round, fired from one of the colony's Mattock rifles ripped through the creature's heart and out its back.

For a brief second there was a stunned silence, until the lead krogan let loose a ground-shaking bellow and they released the varren.

"FIRE!" The captain roared and that instant the air was filled with roar of fire.

* * *

**_130,000 feet above planetary surface_**

_**Uqbar, Aaru System, Exodus Cluster **_

The UT-47 dropship howled through the atmosphere of Uqbar, its pilot pushing the transport in a steep dive to make up for lost time. The _Shanghai_ had barely caught the distress signal and it was nearly fifty-five minutes since the last communication.

In the cramped confines of the dropship, Operations Chief Ashley Williams made last minute checks to her equipment. _Rifle? _Check. _Side-arm?_ Check. _Grenades? _Check. _Jumpack..._Check.

"Listen up!" Lieutenant Jeremiah Guo snapped over the din of the dropships' engines "Drones reported sizeable movement of hostiles in Charlie sector."

Dutifully Ashley Williams activated her Omni-tool projecting their zone of operations into the darkened interior of the cramped dropship. The colony's drones had managed to identify the attackers until a series of missiles had reduced drones to scrap. Those slavers had to be packing M77 missile launchers, so a conventional landing was out of the question.

That was where the "pathfinders" specialized training came in. A high-altitude drop followed by a rapid assault to secure the landing zone for the rest of the dropships, with them finally advancing on the capital itself.

"You know what we're up against and we've trained for these situations" Lieutenant Guo reassured Hunter 2-2. "Hit them hard, give them no chance and watch you lines of fire."

Ashley gave a confident nod, partly to reassure her squadmates around her. The plan was ambitious in its scope and carried a degree of risk with it. Yet if they executed it properly it would mean the demise of one the more prolific slavers that hounded Alliance border-space.

"Ten seconds to drop." The shuttle's pilot curtly reported over the transports intercom. In response the troopers of Hunter 2-2 rose in a swift motion. There no more talk, no more reassurance, only battle. They were marines of the Systems Alliance Navy. They were sharp point of the lance. They were going to kill a lot of slavers.

Ashley kept her breathing under control as the shuttle's doors slid open to reveal the dark night sky of the planet. The stars blinked lazily in the black void, the planet's twin moons gave an ethereal glow to the entire scene.

"Green light, time to dance!" Lieutenant Guo roared. Without hesitation, without second thoughts, the entirety of Hunter 2-2 hurled themselves into the pitch black void. The last one to leave, Ashley mumbled a quick prayer and boldly stepped out into the air

* * *

_**Colonial Capital**_

_**Uqbar, Aaru System, Exodus Cluster **_

"Set up the blocking positions!" Someone yelled as the militia tried to maintain some semblance of a fighting retreat. One militia-soldier turned around; boldly standing her ground and let of a few rounds. Seconds later, a hail of slugs shredded the unfortunate woman's stomach to ribbons.

After minutes of intense fighting the meagre fortifications had fallen. Armed with outdated weapons, the militia had been forced to retreat into the colony itself, desperately trying to buy time for the families and friends to get to the bunker, housed in the administration building.

Grossman gasped for air, as he kept running towards the next set of waist-high barricades. He had held down the trigger on an old Lancer model rifle, until the damn thing overheated. Bereft of thermal clips, he could only retreat while the rifle vented heat.

"Move, move!" The captain roared, as the horde of slavering vorcha and snarling varren pursued the retreating militia. A burst of fire cut down the first vorcha and someone managed to hurl a grenade into the mass of slavers. The ensuring blast sent limbs and organs in all directions, as the militia ducked back into cover.

_We can do this, we can hold them!_ For a brief second Grossman was encouraged by their little success. Deep in the warrens of alleyways, streets and buildings that made up the colony, the militia could draw the slavers into traps, maybe even defeat them…

Suddenly a biotic wave crashed into the militia, sending members hurtling into concrete. Bereft of kinetic barriers, Grossman was picked up and then hurled by the invisible blast, tumbling head over heels as he crashed to ground.

As his vision darkened, Grossman's last sight was the spectre of leering vorcha advancing towards him, its impossibly sharp teeth shining in the moonlight.

* * *

_**Outskirts of Colonial Capital**_

_**Uqbar, Aaru System, Exodus Cluster **_

Instantly plummeting through Uqbar's atmosphere, Operations Chief Ashley Williams rapidly approached terminal velocity. Her altimeter ticked down the metres towards deployment. Around her the troopers of Hunter 2-2 team were in freefall towards the rapidly oncoming planetary surface.

A surprisingly polite tone sounded in her helmet, as the simple VI indicated the appropriate altitude to activate her mass-field, lest she want to be smeared across the surface of Uqbar. Slapping her Omni-tool, Ashley sent a negative charge arcing through the Jump-pack's eezo core.

This time, the tiny eezo core lit up and within second her mass was reduced to a fraction. Simultaneously the tiny thrusters built into the pack activated and slowed down her descent.

Gliding through the atmosphere, she could make out the makeshift fortifications the colonists had thrown up to stall the slaver advance. The battle still raged as the colonists desperately fended off the slaver assault. A torrent of fire erupted from one position until a trio of dark shapes raced toward it and plunged deep into the heart of it.

She couldn't hear the screams of horror, but she could very imagine it. Krogan were known for being brutal in close-combat and her experience with Shepard had only revealed more of how truly dangerous they could be more.

Finally reaching their drop zone, merely a kilometre from the colony's capital where the fighting had intensified, Ashley relaxed her legs and rolled into the landing. Thanks to the Jumpack's mass-field, her legs didn't smash on impact but it still hurt nonetheless.

Gritting her teeth against the shock of impact, she released the clasps on her Jumpack and swept the area around her. As her fellow troopers landed beside her, she made straight for a nearby grove of trees.

Within minutes the troopers of Hunter 2-2 team rendezvoused at the grove of trees. A quick count and the troopers advanced towards their objective. A nearby ridge offered the best landing zone for the _Shanghai_'s shuttles and it was up to them to make sure it was clear of hostiles.

* * *

_**Colonial Capital**_

_**Uqbar, Aaru System, Exodus Cluster **_

Ravanor Urloc was truly lost in the fire of combat. With an almost adolescent joy he fired his shotgun repeatedly until the weapon finally spat out its overheated thermal clip

Wielding his now silent shotgun as crude club he brought it down on his opponent, the sheer force pulping the unfortunate man's skull. Gleefully he continued to pulp his demised victim, until he finally spent his bloodlust.

Warily he glanced around as his fellow slavers congregated around him.

"Well?" He snarled at the nearest mercenary, a tall batarian who cradled a heavily modified Revenant machine-gun.

"The humans have fortified their administration building." The slaver reported "Perhaps it would be wise to…"

"Retreat?!" Urloc angrily snapped back. Violently backhanding his subordinate, he whirled around to regard his band of mercenaries.

"We retreat now, the humans will have seen our vessel and seen our faces" Urloc continued. "We either take that building, or we burn it to the ground"

The batarian wisely stayed on the ground as Urloc loomed over. Rising up now would be a challenge to the massive krogan and he had no desire to join the afterlife anytime soon. Casting all four of his eyes, he hung his head in silent defeat, hoping the gesture would spare his life.

Urloc dismissively grunted. His brother would not appreciate his executing one of their "employees". No, he would take that building by force or ensure that no one was left to tell the tale of his exploits.

* * *

_**Outskirts of Colonial Capital**_

_**Uqbar, Aaru System, Attican Beta **_

Ashley silently surveyed their target zone. Slapping on a pair of Umbra Night Vision Goggles, she studied their objective. A single grassy clearing, nestled on top of a wooded ridge offered the best landing zone for the _Shanghai_'s dropships. It was perfect, open space, commanding elevation and with enough cover to mask their approach.

"Ridge looks clear Eltee." She murmured "Request permission to take a closer look."

"Roger that Chief, take Behari's squad with you" Lieutenant Guo coolly replied "Ringo's squad will cover you."

Nodding at Behari, she carefully advanced forwards, her eyes darting from side to side looking for a potential ambush. A moment later she heard a snap and she collapsed into the long grass.

A lone batarian sniper wandered in the clearing, his powerful rifle cradled lovingly in his arms. Pausing to retrieve a cigar from his belt, he let out a sigh as he inhaled the night air. Before he could even light the cigar, Ashley was on top of him, her left hand clamped around his mouth whilst she held the batarian in a chokehold.

Putting immense pressure on the slaver's carotid artery, almost immediately she cut off blood flow to his brain. Possible on nearly all known sentient species, with the exception of krogans, unconscious was guaranteed within seconds.

Ashley gripped the struggling slaver in a vice grip, as he desperately convulsed. After what seemed an eternity to her, she gently lowered the batarian to the dirt and motioned to the trooper beside her. Advancing carefully, they descended into the surrounding underbrush.

The squad of alliance marines stealthily moved through the underbrush that surrounded the clearing. Two unlucky batarian wandered into their sights, a flurry of shots silencing them before the alarm could be raised.

Satisfied that the landing zone was secure, the marines of Hunter 2-2 team signaled _Shanghai_ to send in the rest of the troops. Ashley's keen vision surmised an excellent sniping position and she pointed the company's snipers towards a rocky outcrop.

* * *

_**20 Minutes Later**_

_**Colonial Capital**_

_**Uqbar, Aaru System, Attican Beta **_

Hunter 2-2 team moved silently through the heart of the colony. Sporadic fire erupted every now and the, as the marines advanced towards their objective. Sighting one of the colony's silos Corporal Behari motioned for two of the marines to scale it.

Moving quickly, Hunter 2-2 team rounded the corner and almost ran into the middle of raging firefight. A pack of vorcha was advancing down on two trapped colonists, pelting the unfortunate human with fire. One grinning vorcha, wielding a flamethrower, advanced towards the frightened pair and with a snarl pulled the trigger.

Or he would have, had not a precise shot separated his head from his shoulder. For a brief second the vorcha were stunned by this new turn of event and then the marines let loose a barrage of fire. Ballistic slugs pulverized armour and shredded flesh as the vorcha were ripped asunder under the hail of fire.

Silence followed after the barrage. One marine surged forwards and planted a boot on a fallen vorcha whom miraculously survived the assault. A point-blank shot and the vorcha soon joined the soul of his brethren in the afterlife.

"Hunter 2-2, we're in position." Corporal Behari coolly reported over the platoon's radio, as the troopers stacked up. Mere meters from their position, the firefight for the administration building only intensified and the marines could hear the bass bellows of krogan.

"Hunter 2-1 here."

"Hunter 2-3, standing by."

"Hunter 2-4, ready on your mark."

"Hunter 2-5, LZ is still secure"

Seconds passed and Ashley struggled to control her impatience.

"Mark."

Almost immediately Hunter 2-2 team leapt into action. A flurry of grenades blew apart a combined 'squad' of vorcha and batarians. Mercenaries were bodily hurled through the air, as the blast flung shrapnel and debris across the courtyard. Coordinated fire slammed into flanks of the surprised slavers, crashing into shields and crushing armour.

A krogan turned and gave a thunderous roar, as he charged the marines. A powerful round fired from the marine snipers pulverized his skull, liquefying organs and tissue in the process. With nary a whimper the murderous giant crashed to the dirt, his shattered skull weeping blood and tissue.

With a roar the slavers turned their attentions to the marines and within seconds the battle was joined.

* * *

_**Administration Courtyard, Colonial Capital**_

_**Uqbar, Aaru System, Attican Beta **_

Ravanor Urloc was enraged by the new turn of events. These feeble humans had the gall to challenge _him_? How dare they try to strip away _his_ prize, _his_ spoils, and _his_ honour!

A batarian mercenary near him received a flurry of rounds that severed his arm. Clutching at the stump of his arm, he wordlessly stumbled forwards until another round punched through his chest.

A trio of vorcha snarled, swung their rifles around and sprayed fire onto a squad of marines. In response, out of the darkness a grenade swooped out and landed into the middle of the trio. The ensuring explosion liquefied armour and incinerated flesh. All that remained was a single limb, still clutching the ruins of its weapon.

_No._ Urloc had not survived the Citadel to die on some human back-world. No, he would 'retreat', carve a path through the humans and return to the transports.

"You!" He barked at the nearby asari huntress. Already nodding at his unspoken command, the duo took a team with them and headed straight for the weakest point of the human advance.

* * *

_**Administration Courtyard, Colonial Capital**_

_**Uqbar, Aaru System, Attican Beta **_

Ashley grimly advanced with the rest of her platoon, as the marines sent a flurry of grenades tearing into the slaver's rear. Ripping through the weakest part of the slaver's battle lines, the marines dug deeper into the brutal urban firefight.

From their positions the marines of Hunter 2-2 laid down a hail of fire into the exposed flanks of the surprised slavers. In sheer desperation the slavers counterattacked, driving towards the marines.

One heavyset batarian wielding a heavily modified M76 Revenant turned his weapon onto the marines, the fires illuminating the grin on his face. His heavy machine spat out a torrent of slugs, sending marines diving for cover.

Leaning out from her cover Ashley fired a burst that caught the batarian on his shields. Staggering back from the impact, the batarian snarled and brought up the weapon to bear on her. Seconds later another marine hurled a grenade in the batarian's direction and the blast ripped past the slaver's shields and pulped him.

Leaking blood from a thousand different wounds, the formerly snarling batarian collapsed to the soil, his rifle falling away from nerveless fingers.

Ashley leaned out and let loose a hail of fire that burned through one slaver's weakened kinetic barriers. Even as her thermal clip gave out, she let loose a concussive shot that streaked across the courtyard and slammed violently into his chest. The impact alone crushed his vital organs as he was brutally slammed into the ground.

Ashley began to hum a psalm as the fighting only seemed to intensify around her. Vorcha snarled and batarians roared as the marines punched through the mercenaries' battle-line. Pumping her muscles, she sprinted towards a makeshift barricade, her rifle sweeping the area in front of her.

One vorcha blocked her way, a snarl plastered over its face, as it momentarily ignored the overheated shotgun that it held. Bring it up to use as a club, it swung wide and hard at Ashley's head.

Ducking under the blow, Ashley brought up her own rifle and slammed it into the vorcha's exposed neck. Coughing up blood and mucus, the vorcha scarcely had time to recover, before she fired a burst into its skull at point blank range.

Without breaking rhythm, Ashley surged forward with the rest of her fellow marines. God help her, she lived for this. The surge of adrenaline, the way her mind adapted to the rhythm of battle and how in those moments all her doubts and fears fell to the wayside.

_The Lord is my Shepard, I shall not want_. A burst from her rifle caught a vorcha in its vulnerable knee, ripping its legs out from underneath it. Seconds later another burst tore through its skull, splashing bright orange blood onto the grass.

_In these moments, Ashley felt alive, in a primeval way that her own kin would not recognize. She hadn't felt like this ever since the days of the Normandy, when the galaxy threw everything it had her and together they had all defeated it. _

_He maketh me lie down in green pastures. _Ashley ducked back into cover as the vorcha's comrade laid down a hail of fire from a heavily modified turian rifle. Seconds later it shared it comrade's fate as one of the platoon's snipers sent a high-powered round tearing through its skull.

It wasn't that she loved to _kill_. She wasn't a psychopathic monster whom lived for the death of others. She loved the thrill of _surviving_. Of going up against whatever the galaxy threw at her and _winning_. She loved to _win_. Be it war, life or sex.

_He leadeth me beside still waters_. Without losing a beat, Ashley rose up and laid down a hail of suppressive fire as the rest of the platoon advanced.

_Perhaps she loved confrontation. Conflict, personal or external, tested and bettered one's self. Unless pushed to one's limits, how else could one know the measure of themselves? The tested blade would always be stronger than the polished one. Perhaps her dark, masochistic side loved to be tested. To be pushed to her limits. To go to her breaking point and beyond…and win. _

_He restoreth my soul, he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake_. Ashley aimed down her sights and fired a trio of shots that ripped through a batarian's throat carapace. The unfortunate batarian fell to the ground clutching at his neck as he bled into the cold, wet ground.

_Urdnot Wrex, the centuries-old battlemaster, had once reminisced that Ashley reminded him of Jorgal Shiagur, the infamous female krogan warlord. Hiding their aggression and cunning under their gender, they both shared a lust for winning against the odds. Shiagur fought against the might of the Turian Hierarchy. Ashley fought against the stain of her family honour._

_Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me_. Ashley plucked, primed and then hurled her trademark inferno grenades. The ensuring blast caught a trio of vorcha slavers in its incendiary heat, the ravenous flame searing flesh and frying organs.

Hell, even Shepard shared some of her ideals, whether he admitted it or not. The paragon of the law had shared and reflected her zeal on the battlefield. Yet while she was freight train on the battlefield, he was the artist. Her aggression complemented his cool nature and together they virtually dominated the battlefield.

_Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over._ Ashley threw herself clear as a vorcha primed and then fired a rocket in her direction. Clearing the first barricade, Ashley curled into a ball as the warhead smashed against the durasteel structure and then detonated, showering shrapnel and debris everywhere.

_Theirs had been an odd relationship. In combat, they worked seamlessly, knowing when to push forward or when to pull back. Off duty, they were the most awkward couple imaginable. His almost fanatical devotion to the law and duty crashed against her sarcastic wit. Hell even when they made love it was a near battle for domination in the bedroom in the midst of their passion. _

_Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the __Lord__ for ever._ Ashley rolled onto her back and fired a volley of rounds as the rocket trooper tried to retreat. Catching the retreating vorcha between the shoulder blades, the rounds burrowed through flesh, the hydrostatic force alone tearing its spinal column apart.

_Why did she think so clearly when she was firing at someone? _

* * *

**_SSV Shanghai_**

_**Uqbar, Aaru System, Attican Beta **_

Captain Benjamin Murdoch of the _SSV Shanghai_ listened intently to the marines' communication network. Standing in the bridge of the powerful cruiser, the truth of the matter was that there was very little he could actually contribute to the ground battle. Forbidden by the Citadel Convention to conduct orbital bombardment on a garden world, all he could do was wait for the outcome and mop up.

That being said, his sensors had picked out five slaver transports on the surface. Designed to transport slaves, they would be no match for the _Shanghai_ if they attempted to escape. If the cursed slavers tried to escape, he'd blow them to kingdom come, consequences be damned.

The thought of human prisoners on the transports didn't even give him a moment's pause. Nearly every crewmember had known or heard rumours about life as a slave. The lucky ones got sold on Illium. The unlucky ones died. The truly damned spent the rest of their miserable lives in Hegemony space, sucked into backbreaking work in their mines or used as canon fodder in the hundreds of brushfire wars the plagued batarian space.

He would not have another Mindoir on his hands. Not ever.

"XO," He curtly ordered "Prep gunnery for target coordinates."

* * *

_**Administration Courtyard, Colonial Capital**_

_**Uqbar, Aaru System, Attican Beta **_

Ashley was bodily slammed by an invisble force, her kinetic barriers saving her body from being crushed yet halved by the impact. Bracing herself against the blast, Ashley prevented herself from toppling over.

On top of one of the colony's building, she had lead a pair of marine riflemen whom had set up a flanking position, hoping to catch the slavers in a deadly enfilade. It had worked…up till now.

Seconds later a powerful round ripped through her kinetic barriers and spun the marine around. She managed a glimpse of the attacker and her heart froze at the sight.

An enraged asari huntress with a pair of leering vorcha charged from one of the nearby buildings, an enormous krogan at her flanks. Wielding a gargantuan pistol the Asari fired another round. Almost instantly Ashley's shoulder guard was viciously split apart as the armour plate was ripped in half.

Hurled by the impact, Ashley was hurled from the roof to the ground as the asari let loose a feral howl and leapt towards.

Encased in a biotic aura, the asari landed on the ground lightly and then threw a biotic-powered punch that would have smashed into Ashley's face, had the marine not rolled aside at the last minute.

Her biotics spend for the moment, the asari snatched up a talon from her belt, the curved blade gleaming in the moonlight. With maniacal glee the asari lunged at the vulnerable human.

Bringing up her reserves of strength, Ashley bodily kicked at the asari's direction. She was rewarded with the sweet sensation of her boot smashing into the asari's face, shattering the alien's nose.

The asari's forward momentum was immediately halted and she crashed into the soil, the talon falling away from her fingers. Scrambling to her feet, Ashley squared off against her opponent. Her fingers fumbled for her sidearm, until the asari bodily launched herself into Ashley's midsection. The pair went down grappling with each other.

_Fifty seconds_. That's all Ashley had before the asari would be able to unleash another biotic assault. Ashley brought down her elbow between the asari's shoulder blades, desperately trying to escape the grip the asari had her in.

With a dogged determination, the asari held Ashley in a vice grip, squeezing her chest with surprising strength. As she began to gasp and the corners of her vision darkened, Ashley let loose a powerful haymaker.

Crashing into the asari's ears, the impact granting Ashley a moment's reprieve. Slipping out of the asari's grip, Ashley kicked once more, catching the asari in her midsection.

Even in her weakened state, the asari summoned up a biotic blast, hurling Ashley backwards. Crashing up against one of the makeshift fortifications, stars exploded in Ashley's vision. Even so, Ashley saw the asari raised herself from the dirt and a sadistic smile cross the alien's lips.

Even with blood the seeped out the corner of her mouth, the asari still had a bloodthirsty grin, plastered across her visage. _Impossible_. Ashley had kicked, punched, pounded the asari and still the alien had enough strength to rip her apart.

_Must have had a krogan father…_ The sardonic side of her mid quipped, as the asari summoned up another biotic blast. At this range when the blast hit, there wouldn't be enough her corpse to even warrant a burial.

_Pathetic…_another corner of her mind sneered. _You survived a whole horde of Benezia's commandoes on Noveria. You survived the Rachni nest on Nepmos. You survived the geth on Virmire. And now a single, washed out asari is gonna gut you like a pig. _

_Shut up_. Ashley's conscious spat back.

_Or else what_?

"Shut Up!" Ashley roared, as she snatched up her combat blade and hurled it at a very surprised asari huntress. A powerful biotic shove violently slapped the hurled blade aside, smashing it against the structures that surrounded them. But it was enough.

With a feral howl, Ashley leapt to her feet and charged across the small gap, her body powered by the incredible dump of adrenaline. Bodily tackling the shocked asari to the ground, Ashley raised her fist and smashed it into the formerly beautiful commando.

Using her knees to pin her opponent down, Ashley began to savagely rain blows upon her foe. Her fists pulped flesh and smashed cartilage. One blow smashed into the asari's nose. With a snarl, the huntress bucked, hurling Williams off her.

The hairs on the back of Ashley's neck began to rise; the telltale sign of a gathering biotic field. Ashley struck out with her feet, catching the asari in the chest as they both struggled to rise.

An errant biotic blast went skywards, as the asari monetarily lost her concentration. The asari, as a species, may be natural occurring biotics, but like all sapient require a degree of concentration to wield. Which Ashley just _shattered_.

Lunging forwards, Ashley plucked the combat talon where it lie in the mud and plunged into the asari's neck.

Contrary to video-games and simultisms, death by stabbing was never instaneous. The organic mind in combat, already hyped up on adrenaline, goes into overdrive. The heart-rate skyrockets, muscles burn through oxygen reserves and in their dying throes organic sapients become even more dangerous. Gunnery Chief Ellison once described how he saw a man, with a knife shoved into his chest, run for nearly fifty yards before collapsing.

With a convulsive strength, the asari latched onto Ashley's wrist with one hand had preventing the marine from slicing across the jugular. Locked together, the pair stared balefully at each other, their wounds momentarily forgotten.

Ashley needed to end this engagement fast. Every second she spent locked with the asari, was another second that crept towards her death via a biotic blast. Desperately she did the one thing that no one would have expected. She let go.

With a gasp, Ashley released her grip from the blade. And instead, grabbed her sidearm from her belt. Forcefully she shoved the M6 Carnifex pistol, one of her few private possessions, past whatever biotic barrier the asari had up and fired.

For the faintest of seconds, Ashley caught the shocked expression on the asari's lips, before the huntress' skull was violently blown apart by the Carnifex's high-powered slug. Ashley couldn't remember how long she kept firing. All she could recall was after what seemed to be an eternity; she was standing on top of a shattered corpse, its blue blood leaking into the soul and her own pistol coughing out a glowing thermal clip.

How long had it been? Seconds? Minutes? Hours? Days? Suddenly she felt so tried, so spent. She felt as if she had been fighting for all eternity. She needed a break.

Then she heard the distinctive bass growl of Krogan warrior. From behind her.

* * *

Ravanor Urloc snarled in the darkness as the fires illuminated his vision. The petrified primate hurled herself to the side as his leg smashed into the ground. At his side the dead asari bled into the soil, the stench of her blood driving him further into a hot fury. How _dare_ these miserable primates dare to stop _him_!

Denied the pleasure of physically pulping his opponent into the dust, Urloc aimed down his shotgun and prepared the blow off her legs. The pitiful human lunged for her rifle and fired a burst straight into his belly.

At close range, the rounds pulped his armour and punched into his stomach. Any ordinary sapient would have been felled by such a blow. But Urloc was no mere organics, no, he was krogan.

With a roar, he viciously slapped the rifle away from the human's hands. With surprising agility, she dodged the next blow which would have ripped her head off.

Towering over his opponent, he let a grin cross his face as the fires illuminated each other. Pumping his shotgun once more, he fired a shot that caught the human in the shoulder. With a pitiful scream she crashed to the floor, clutching at the wound as the krogan menacingly advanced towards her.

_No…_shooting her would be so…_unfulfilling_. He wanted to smell her, to taste her fear. He wanted to see the life escape from her eyes and feel her body shudder as her soul left her body. But most of all, he wanted to feel her _die_.

With a murderous cackle, the krogan grabbed the human by the neck and raised her to eye level Dangling helplessly, her feet kicked uselessly as he began to slowly choke her.

"Take comfort that you die at the hands of a true warrior, human." He murmured, as she began to gasp for breath.

Until he felt the weight of heavy pistol rest between his eyes. Acting on instinct, he hurled the human to the side, sending her crashing against the wall.

_Back on your back, eh Ash?_ Ashley's sardonic side quipped once more, as the krogan rounded on her.

She aimed down the sights of her trusty M6 Carnifex pistol. Dubbed the krogan killer, its heavy round would punch through its armour and natural hide to rip apart both its nervous systems. _If _she had a thermal clip in it.

_Click_. Empty! She had overheated the damned thing's thermal clip during her fight with the asari.

With a murderous cackle the krogan raised his leg to stomp the vulnerable marine into the dirt. With that force, her chest would be rendered into a crushed cavity and her organs would become paste.

With catlike reflexes, she plucked the last grenade from her bandolier and chucked it in the krogan's direction. For a second the krogan stared bemusedly at the tiny sphere that flew towards them and then it detonated.

White, hot, searing napalm erupted and covered the hapless krogan. Perception speeded back to reality, as krogan screamed and clawed at itself, as the rapidly expanding cloud of fire and shrapnel ate into his armour and skin.

Armour crackled and fell as skin twisted and burned. Fat and flesh evaporated in the heat and nerve tissue was seared and fried. An almost unearthly wail came out from the burning giant as it stumbled towards her.

Suddenly a sharp crack echoed across the courtyard, as a powerful round punched through the krogan's warped armour, penetrated its skull and ripped apart its dual central nervous system.

The krogan was still for a moment and then it ponderously toppled forwards, its mass still burning. Ashley rolled to the side, as the krogan crashed to the dirt besides her. Releasing her breath, she let out a sigh as the night finally fell silent.

"Nice shot." She croaked into the platoon's comm. network.

* * *

**__****Two Kilometres outside of Colonial Capital**

**__****Uqbar, Aaru System, Attican Beta **

Dolsen El'Baratm, formerly of the batarian hegemony armed forces, churned his legs faster and faster as he fled the fighting. The batarian mercenary wasn't paid enough die on some backwater human planet. At his flanks his comrades panted, as they struggled up the hill, towards the awaiting transports.

They would take the transports and flee the human blockade. The Alliance wouldn't dare target vessels that carried their civilians.

As El'Barat arrived at the clearing, a corner of his mind cried out in alarm. As he turned to glance at the surrounding foliage, a ballistic slug tore out of the darkness and ripped through his knee.

The marines of first platoon opened fire on the fleeing batarians as they ran straight into the trap. Streams of fire whipped out across the clearing and tore into retreating slavers. The marines gave no quarter, no mercy and within seconds the entire retreating slaver column was reduced to corpses.

* * *

_**Colonial Capital**_

_**Uqbar, Aaru System, Attican Beta **_

The entire engagement lasted merely an hour. The SSV Shanghai didn't even need to fire a shot. The marines swept through the colony, hunting down surviving slavers. No quarter was given and none was asked. Wounded vorcha snarled defiantly as marines coldly executed them.

Ashley wearily walked through the rubble, her arm in a makeshift cast. Picking her way to the corpses she finally found what she was looking for. A solitary krogan lay on his back, half his torso ripped apart by a grenade blast. Ashley squatted in the dirt and stared at the charred remains of the corpse. The marines of blue team claimed that he had been sheathed in some sort of biotic aura, the hallmark of a krogan battlemaster.

It couldn't be him. It wasn't possible. Urdnot Wrex may have dwelt in the galaxy's underworld, but Ashley refused to believe that the world-weary krogan would stoop to slaving. Yet despite that belief she reminded herself that she had been ready on Virmire to put a slug in the battlemaster had it not been for Shepard's charm.

Shakily she extended a hand and gently removed the giant's battle mask. A scarred, bloodied face greeted her. Blood red eyes stared balefully at her and lips were frozen in a horrific snarl. But it was not Wrex, not with that blue crest.

A prayer of gratitude escaped her lips as she choked back a sob. The galaxy was already a dark place; she didn't need to lose more of her friends.

* * *

_**Nemean Abyss**_

This corner of the galaxy hadn't seen a sapient organic being in over a thousand years. Nestled deep in the heart of the Nemean Abyss, even the lawless avoided it. Rumours of ghost ships prowling the void shook the hearts of even the most savage of pirates. Those whom dare investigate disappeared, not even a trace of wreckage for the bravest of investigators to find.

A single ship cruised through the void. Its curved, insectoid appearance and its soulless crew revealed its purpose. They were geth, immune to the organics tendency of superstitions.

But they weren't mere ordinary geth. No, they were enlightened beings, those whom had been worth to hear the words of their overlord from the lips of his powerful servant. Even now, when the master had fallen silent and when the prophet had been incinerated, they still clung to their fate.

But now something called them. Something sang to them, wailed to them. They could hear it across the stars, across the void of time and space.

And in that instance they renewed their purpose. The great reaping was nearly upon the organics and they had to prepare the galaxy for their masters.

* * *

_**CODEX ENTRY: The Tragedy of Mindoir**_

_**The "Tragedy of Mindoir" remains to this day, one of the most traumatic incidents in human history. Taking place during the early stages of human colonization of the Skillian Verge, no more human lives were lost on that fateful day in 2170 than save the geth attack on Eden Prime. **_

_**A synchronized early morning raid on Mindoir's colonies, by slavers and raiders, left it security forces reeling and overwhelmed. Yet in those fateful hours, what was supposed to be a snatch-and-grab slaving operation turned into a gruesome bloodbath. **_

_**The Alliance response, consisting of the cruisers Jakarta, Cape Town and Moscow engaged the batarian slaver vessels, whom mysteriously acquired Thrasher-class vessels. Whilst the naval battle blazed overhead, alliance marine dropships were forced to detour far away from the settlements due to the heavy presence of mobile AA emplacements. **_

_**Force to land their forces more than 10 kilometres away from the settlements, Alliance marines desperately tried to break through the slaver's defences, as human civilians were forcibly implanted with cerebral cortex implants or outright murdered. **_

_**Yet perhaps what was the most controversial moment of the battle came at the end, when Captain Yao Deijang ordered his vessels to stand down, as slaver-freighter packed with captured humans flew past their guns. Citing that Alliance doctrine forbade targeting vessels known to be carrying civilians, Deijang defended his decision before a parliament committee. **_

_**Two weeks later Deijang was found dead in his home in San Diego. The coroner ruled it a suicide. **_

_**Months later, the Systems Alliance Navy passed "Contingency Order 67". Nicknamed the "Devil's Alternative", it authorizes all Alliance Navy personnel to fire on vessels known to be operated by slavers, even if it carries human civilians. In a wave of controversy it forced the resignation of Prime Minister John Mackenzie and his entire cabinet, yet till date the Navy had yet to rescind this order. **_

_**The "Tragedy of Mindoir" accelerated the Alliance's efforts to create a rapid-response armoured force and lead to the creation of the M35 Mako Armoured Fighting Vehicle and the posting of "jump-troopers" on all Alliance cruisers. It also intensified Alliance covert operations in the Skillian Verge and Terminus systems, which may have indirectly lead to the "Skillian Blitz", the "Theshaca Raids" and the "Bloodbath of Torfan". **_


	6. Operation Hammer - Part 1

"_The Turian Hierarchy stands by the Systems Alliance's decision to quarantine Virmire. Any turian parties seeking to land on the planet MUST seek permission from the Citadel Council "_

_- Official Hierarchy statement, in support of the Alliance's decision pertaining its blockade of Virmire - _

"_Si vis pacem, para bellum (If you wish for peace, prepare for war)"_

_- by Publius Flavius Vegetius Renatus -_

She stumbled through the void, the darkness pressing in around her as she groped for a wait out. A raw animalistic terror rose within her as mysterious shapes flitted in and out of her sight. Voices rose as figures, vaguely familiar, appeared and then vanished. The voices began to build into a crescendo, forming into sounds recognizable to her.

"Watch the left flank!"

"Hostiles, three o clock!"

"Covering fire!"

"Somebody get Bhatia out of there!"

"Medic!"

"Williams, move!"

Ashley whirled around at the mention of her name. In the distance she saw a pinprick of light appear, beckoning her towards it. Unfurling her assault rifle, she sprinted towards it, her surroundings become more definite as the light grew stronger and stronger.

As the darkness gave way to the light, she began to recognize her surroundings. She was in a tropical world, her feet splashing through streams of turquoise water and her lungs breathing in air that felt _alive_.

"Williams where the hell are you?!" A familiar voice called out for her.

"On my way Eltee!" Ashley snapped back, as she turned the corner of a strangely familiar durasteel structure.

She ran smack into a geth trooper, the synthetic humanoid bowled over by the impact. Reacting quickly, she planted a foot down on its shoulder and fired three rounds straight into its vulnerable core. Racing forward, she paid the downed unit no heed, as it bled white fluid into the water.

Finally reaching her goal, she saw a trio of marines guarding a device, hunkering down behind cover as geth swarmed towards them. Grabbing a grenade, she flung the device into the center of the synthetic assault and grinned as the explosion consumed armour and circuitry.

Sliding into place beside her human comrades, she exchanged nods with the ranking officer. Lt. Kaidan Alenko returned the nod with a pained grimace, as the firefight rose in intensity. Rising to their feet, the proud marines of the _SSV Normandy_ laid down a hail of lead, the rounds punching through shields and into vulnerable circuits.

_You didn't think we'd give up that easy did you?_ Despite herself, Ashley grinned as the geth's assault was driven back by the determined defence the marines put up. Seizing the initiative the marines jumped over the barricades, battering their enemy's vulnerable rear as the geth retreated. Out of nowhere, lone krogan snarled before a biotic aura picked him up and hurled him into the horizon. The geth fled for their lives, their synthetic processors unable to handle the ferocity of the marine's counter-attack. The battle was won, the bomb was secure and…

"Dropship inbound!" One of the marines bawled, before a sniper round ripped through his helmet and out his skull. Seconds later his partner caught another round through his vulnerable throat and Ashley herself barely ducked under another round.

Kaidan clenched his fist and a trio of geth snipers were plucked from their roost, floating helplessly in the air, as Ashley sent a torrent of lead into their torsos. The shattered geth 'corpses' crashed into the water as more geth dropped from the sky, swarming around the marines as they electronic snarls tearing through the air.

"Eltee, get out of here!" Ashley hollered as they ducked back into cover. A quick glance at her fallen comrades revealed that there was nothing that she could do for them. _Damn it!_ Within minutes the geth would overrun their position and their sacrifices would have been for nought. _Unless…._

"I'm arming the bomb." Kaidan interrupted, somehow catching the stream of her thoughts. Before she could reply, Kaidan leaned out and slapped the console on the makeshift bomb.

"Go on chief, get out of here!" Kaidan roared, before clenching his fist once more and sending a trio of geth hurtling backwards.

"Screw that, Eltee!" Ashley retorted, as she rose up and fired a hail of slugs. "I can handle it, you get out of here!"

Fully prepared to lay down her life for the mission, Ashley braced herself for the full brunt of the geth assault. Catching a geth trooper through the midsection with a burst, a feral snarl spread over her face as she laid down another hail of lead, buying time for Alenko to escape.

"That is an order, Ash!" Kaidan growled, shoving her away from the bomb "Move your ass!"

Ashley indecisively paused for a second. Every part of screamed to stay with a bomb, whilst a corner of her mind argued it was better to live and fight another day. Every instinct screamed that her life was not worth losing the bomb, whilst her soul rejected the very notion of disobeying a direct order.

Finally Ashley compromised. She'd retreat; she'd honour Alenko's orders. But she'd make him proud, she make Shepard proud. She'd make Saren, the geth and the Reaper spay for everything they've stolen from her; the 212th, the _Normandy_, Alenko and Shepard. She would avenge them all.

Turning around she ducked under a torrent of lead that materialized from nowhere. Pausing for a second, she plucked a grenade from her belt and hurled it towards a duo of geth troopers whom blocked her path. The ensuring blast consumed the synthetic machines and hurled shrapnel that cut down a nearby geth trooper.

"No you won't" Alenko declared, suddenly appearing out of this mists that rose from the depths of the tropical river. As if summoned from the debts of Hades, a deep fog obscured her vision covering her surroundings as if they existed no more.

"Wha…"Ashley managed to sputter, until a pistil rammed into her midsection.

"After all, you're only a grunt" A voice whispered in her ear.

_BANG!_ Jammed against her stomach, the heavy pistol round punched through her armour and tore out through her spine.

Ashley collapsed to the ground, her rifle tumbling away from her senseless fingers, her blood staining the river red. Alenko calmly sauntered in front of him, a cheerful grin on his face as his body began to transform right in front of her eyes.

Wires began to sprout throughout his skin and circuitry played across his wounds. His dark brown eyes were violently ejected from their sockets as glowing, blue diodes grew from the resulting void.

"What did you _think_, Williams?" the transformed lieutenant rasped, like a creature summoned from the depths of hell "Did you actually think you would _win_? Did you think a mere grunt would defeat the _Reapers_?"

Ashley could only gasp for breath, as the darkness surrounded her and the geth moved in. As her vision dimmed, the last sound she heard was the synthetic growls of geth machines and the steady countdown of the bomb.

* * *

_**14 months after the destruction of the Normandy**_

_**Barracks**_

_**SSV Shanghai**_

_**Hercules System, Attican Beta **_

Ashley's eyelids flew open and she hurled her sheets to the side, as she awoke. The silence of the barracks greeted here. Her gasps for breath filled the darkened sleeping quarters. Finally she held her face in her hands and managed to calm herself down.

_A nightmare, a single, bloody, nightmare_. Nothing more and nothing less. Too shaken to return back to sleep, she got up and headed straight for the one place where she could work out her turmoil.

Ten minutes later, Ashley was in the _Shanghai's_ makeshift gym. A lone punching bag bore the weight of her frustrations with the galaxy, with life and with herself. A powerful punch sent the bag reeling backwards, the force threatening to snap it from its supports. Ashley launched a powerful kick straight into the centre of it, the impact alone pulping it core.

Sweat ran down her face and body, as Ashley stopped to catch her breath. _Why, why, why?!_ Why did she insist on staying with the Alliance, even as the Reapers bore down on the galaxy? Why didn't she tear across the galaxy, warning people, screaming at them about the threat of the Reapers?

She didn't know, _didn't know_! She let loose a feral snarl as she let loose another punch straight into the bag. She needed time, time to think, and time to take stock. At least the _Shanghai_'s tour was over after a month. Soon she would be back home on Sirona, back amongst family and friends. With luck maybe this time her sisters wouldn't try and set her up with another date.

* * *

_**Presidium**_

_**Citadel**_

_**Widow System, Serpent Nebula**_

Ambassador David Anderson allowed himself a relaxed sigh as he sat by the 'lake' in the heart of the Presidium. He had just finished off a rather strenuous meeting with several outraged colonial officers concerning the exodus of their police forces to the Citadel.

A frown came over Anderson's face as he recalled the aftermath of the Battle of the Citadel. C-Sec had been decimated by the hordes of geth that had poured into the station. The brutal urban firefights had ripped apart entire neighbourhoods and in the end entire precincts of the Citadel's protectors had been wiped out.

Perhaps in response to humanity's ascent to the Council, C-Sec had undertaken a massive recruiting campaign within Alliance space. Entire colonies saw their police forces halved as their officers accepted the higher pay and prestige of guarding the seat of galactic power. Colonies such as Terra Nova, Eden Prime, New Canton and even the nations of Earth saw many of their officers uproot themselves and move to the Citadel.

There had been a virulent response from many of those colonies. Some enacted legislation slapping a hefty termination penalty for officers leaving. Others had outright banned emigration from their worlds. Some tried to increase their officer's salaries, bribing them to stay.

And now Anderson had to deal with them. Some of the governors had asked that he discourage humans from joining C-Sec. Some of the Citadel locals denounced Anderson as the harbinger of human domination. No matter what he did, someone always complained.

"Councillor Anderson!" A shrill voice interrupted his reverie. From the corner of his vision, he saw the bane of his existence. Khalisah Bint Sinan al-Jilani, the 'reporter' for Westerlund news.

There was no time to affect an orderly exit, no time for him exfil without diving into the lake. Cornered by that damn nosy reporter, by the lakeside, all Anderson could do was stand up and affect some manner of dignity.

"Khalisah Bint Sinan al-Jilani, Westerlund News" the reporter sputtered, as her camera-drone hovered mere inches away from Anderson's face "What does the Alliance have to say for uprooting colonial police to protect the alien Council?"

"Ms. Jilani, I don't know where you get your sources, from" Anderson calmly replied, even as a wave of irritation rose within "But last I checked the Systems Alliance is not responsible for assigning police officers to their posts."

"Surely you've heard about entire colonies losing their officers to C-Sec…"

"_Lady I've spent my entire morning listening to governors complaining about their police force"_ Anderson's inner voice growled

"I sympathise with humanity's colonists, but the Systems Alliance stands by the right of its citizens to choose their place of work, regardless of their occupation" Anderson interrupted, before the damn tabloid journalist could open her trap.

_And if we could choose where our people work, I'd have dumped you at the ass end of space_. Anderson managed a somewhat sincere smile as he noticed a pair of C-Sec officers hurriedly make their way towards him. _Ahh…A turian and a human working together. Excellent the Prime Minster will love that little image_

"Ma'am" The turian officer curtly interrupted "You're not supposed to be here…"

"But I have my rights, _this_ is police brutality..."

The rest of her words were lost to his ears as Anderson exited in a most stately fashion. He managed to have a full conversation with that woman without resorting to physical violence. Surely that was a cause for celebration.

* * *

_**Cockpit**_

_**MSV Thunderback**_

_**Nemean Abyss**_

Meanwhile across the galaxy, Samuel Chau, captain of the _MSV Thunderback_ quietly nursed his cup of coffee, in the bridge of the loaded Athabasca-class freighter as it cleared the last the mass relay. It had been a good run, tense at some moments, but good nonetheless.

Chau allowed himself to relax as the freighter headed towards a nearby planet. The last series of jumps had built up a considerable amount of static charge and the prospect of being cooked inside his own ship did not interest him one bit.

For the past 96 hours he had been working his way through the Terminus systems. The client had requested that he transport some colonists off Aite and after the credits cleared Chau did so. What the client had forgot detail was that he would be dealing with the warlords of Aite.

It had taken every ounce of his quite considerable charm to convince them he was not a spy for Citadel government and that he was not going to sell them out. In the end he burned through a quarter of his payout before he could leave the system without a missile up his tailpipe.

He then had the freighter execute a series of jumps designed to throw any pursuers of their tail. Jumping through at least a dozen mass relays, snaking his way past a dozen asteroid fields, Chau navigated the _Thunderback_ past the more dangerous areas of Terminus space.

Yet now the most difficult path lay ahead. Taking a shortcut through the Nemean Abyss, he avoided the Xe Cha system; the hunting grounds of Blood Pack pirates. Yet dark rumours swirled about this region of the Nemean Abyss.

There was a single mass relay that would send the freighter shooting towards another cluster. From there he could execute just two more jumps and he would be safe in Alliance space.

Old hands whispered tales of ghost ships that prowled this patch of space. Ghoulish warlords and ships crewed by the undead were spoken in hushed tones. Some said that the devil himself prowled the void looking for souls to drag to hell. Others said that ancient beings rested and burned those whom disturbed their slumber.

Personally Chau put no stock in such nonsense, yet he couldn't deny the sensation of being watched. The hairs on the back of neck stood up and the crew were unusually silent.

The _Thunderback_ grazed the top of the unknown planet, as its magnetic field rippled. Deep in the heart of the Nemean Abyss, no respectable surveyor had ever touched this system. Personally Chau didn't care. As long as the planet's magnetic field was stable, he didn't care what its name was.

"Uh, boss?" the helmsman called out; as he peered at the sensor displays "You should see this..."

Chau leaned forward and stared at the sensor display. An intermittent contact pulsed in and out of existence, staying at the edge of their range and staying completely still. Finally after a minute it winked out.

"Don't worry pilot." Chau clapped the nervous helmsman on the back, injecting false confidence into his voice "Just interference from the asteroid field, nothing to worry about."

Suddenly the alarm klaxon wailed across the bridge. _Incoming Missiles!_

"Pop flares!" Chau barked, hoping to maintain some measure of calm amongst his crew "Helmsman, take us down _sharp_!"

The gargantuan freighter fired off a series of electronic scrambling signals as a trio of plasma missiles streaked towards it. The first missile fell to the electronic jamming signals, detonating its payload too early to do any damage.

The _Thunderback_ dove away from the missiles, fast and hard away from the southern axis of the planet. Its massive engines roared as they were pushed to the limits of their design. The ships hull creaked and moaned as the G-forces strained its superstructure. The remaining duo of missiles curved to follow their victim.

"In twenty seconds, loop around the planet and skim it" Chai curtly ordered.

If he timed it right, the planet's magnetic field would wreak havoc with the missile's sensors and he would shake off his pursuers.

The _Thunderback_ flipped itself on its vertical axis, the manoeuvre nearly costing him half his systems. Dorsal and ventral rockets fired, allowing the massive transport to complete the manoeuvre without ripped its engines apart.

The missiles curled around to follow the freighter as it skimmed the atmospheric of the planet. Static charge crackled off its hull, as the planet's magnetic field ate up residual charge. The missiles began to spin erratically until finally succumbing to the planet's gravitational pull. One missile was brutally ripped apart by the gravitational forces, its payload detonating in an explosion that devoured its partner.

By all accounts it was a magnificent ploy, one worthy of record in the annals of space navigation. An unarmed, heavily loaded freighter had outmanoeuvred a quartet of plasma missiles fired within their effective kill-zone. Captain Samuel Chau would have gone into annals of history for his brilliant manoeuvre.

Until the mysterious attacker fired second duo of missiles.

The first missile smashed into and ripped apart the _Thunderback's_ engines, hurling debris into the void and disabling the freighter. The second missile ploughed into the freighter's cockpit incinerating the crew almost instantly and sending any unlucky survivors into the cold, vacuum of space.

As the crippled vessel floated in the void, the mystery attackers pulled up beside it. And then the slaughter began

* * *

_**Sensory Array**_

_**Planet X91, Nemean Abyss**_

Meanwhile Ravanor Kratok casually studied his sensory array. A recent addition to his mine, the enormous array was a testament to krogan's ability to adapt. The Theshaca Raids had proven the value of knowing what happened above one's head and the krogan had taken the lesson to heart.

Minutes earlier a transport had shown up within system, settling for an uninhabited world to discharge, flaring up on his sensors with a signature as large as a Thresher Maw. Now the krogan watched with growing dread as a flurry of contacts appeared on his display and then disappeared.

_Was it the Alliance?_ Impossible, he had barely even started. _Was it the Turians?_ No…they were still repairing the fleets? _Asari?_ What would they be doing so far out here? Whoever it was, Kratok didn't have enough time to care.

Dropping from high orbit, the attackers crashed through the krogan's fortifications. Unfurling themselves, the intruders opened fire almost immediately. Plasma rounds stitched through vorcha enforcers and blew apart machinery. Kratok ducked as a hail of fire ripped through his control room.

Kratok had learned the wisdom of being prepared and he reached for his heavily customized grenade launcher that lay bay his side. Rising to his feet he pumped a hail of fragmentary grenades outward, the explosions chewing through both friend and foe alike.

Yet the mechanical intruders continued their assault. Their collective conscious identified Kratok' position and moments later he was hurled from his stronghold by an explosive blast, as a plasma mortar ripped his office apart.

Saved by his thick hide Kratok scrambled to his feet, his finger still clamped down on the trigger. Explosive rounds spiralled out from his grenade launcher, pulping his opponents to pieces, yet for everyone one he destroyed, another would take its place. Relentlessly the mechanical intruders advanced, eliminating their opponents with ruthless efficiency.

The battle was lost, Kratok realized. His vorcha force was overwhelmed and outgunned and throwing his life away would solve nothing. No…he had to escape, link up with his brother and start over. As the intruders shifted their fire, Kratok ducked and ran down the narrow passages that spidered through the planet.

The synthetic attackers pursued the lone krogan, chewing through the vorcha was tried to bar their way. Enraged vorcha snarled and lunged at the attackers, taking them down in a flurry of snarls and limbs. Ruthlessly the attackers dispatched their foes with precise blasts of plasma energy, pausing only for the briefest of moments.

As Kratok rounded the corner, he finally spied his escape. A modified I-20 _Hellhound_ gunboat awaited him, the heavily armed craft his ticket out of this nightmare. Suddenly squad of mechanical troopers burst through the ceiling of the hanger bay, ripping holes as they dropped to the floor.

Kratok hadn't come this far to be killed inches away from his salvation and he powered through the enemy squad, his massive bulk scattering troopers around him. One reacted almost instantaneously, levelling its weapon and sending a burst through the krogan's gut.

Kratok roared as his stomach was ripped apart, his secondary organs taking over almost immediately. As his own stomach acid spilled onto the bay's floor, he violently punched his opponent, sending the synthetic attacker crashing across the floor. As the blood rage ate away his reasoning and consciousness, Kratok managed to buckle himself in and initiate the gunboat's start-up sequence.

The moment his weapons came on line, he aimed and then fired a pair of Mjlonir missiles at the hanger bay doors. Ploughing through the smoke and debris the gunboat rocketed through the atmosphere and for the first time Kratok saw the full scale of the invasion.

Mechanical dropships that resembled oversized wasps flew through the atmosphere, dropping mechanical soldiers onto the surface. Fighter that harkened unto mutated hornets swarmed around their hosts and Kratok had the impression of a synthetic army of deadly insects swarming his home.

A plasma burst nearly tore through the gunboat's cockpit and from the corner of his vision Kratok saw four of synthetic frigates peel off and pursue after him. Punching the throttle, Kratok rocketed through the atmosphere and into the void of space as his pursuers relentlessly dogged after him.

* * *

_**CIC**_

_**SSV Shanghai**_

_**Hercules System, Attican Beta **_

Operations Chief Ashley Williams stifled a yawn as she stood on guard on the bridge of the _Shanghai_. Whilst nominally it was a position of great importance, guarding the crew on whom the _Shanghai_'s fate rested on, it was quite boring. Hours of staring forward, whilst officers and ensigns studied their consoles, made Ashley yearn for an honest to god firefight.

To keep her mind from going insane from the boredom, she surrptitiously studied her surrounding, for what was the thousandth time.

In contrast to the turian influenced design of the _Normandy_, the bridge of the _Shanghai_ retained its distinctively human aspects, having been set deep in the heart of the cruiser. Arranged in a half circle, the pilots sat at two consoles, their faces reflecting the glow of their haptic interfaces. The captain was sat directly behind the pilots, sitting in a raised platform with his own consoles. Several consoles for sensory operators were scattered around and even the gunners sat in recessed slots.

"Uhh…Captain?" One of the sensor techs called out "The Relay is lighting up"

"Increase resolution on that sector" Captain William Murdoch, curtly ordered as he manipulated the holographic display to focus on the system's mass relay.

"Right sir…Uhh…energy output seems to indicate combined mass of vessels, I can't tell what they are until they drop in..."

"Hmm…warm up the guns and sound alarm to quarters…"

"Whoa, they're dropping in now Captain. Hold on…we've got weapons fired!"

"I want _eyes_ on that, _ensign._"

"Roger that, all arrays are on that sector sir."

Ashley's blood froze as she recognized the distinctive profiles on the readouts. _Geth!_ At least five geth frigates were in pursuit of a lonely gunboat. Ducking and diving the hail of fire, the gunboat danced in the void, barely dodging its pursuers. Pirouetting away from a stream of fire, the gunboat dodged it pursuers…until a single round punched through its engines and out its cockpit.

"Gunners I want target locks on the lead geth vessel. Put a trio MAC round through its engines and prep missiles launch, designate targets as Alpha, Bravo, Charlie and Delta." Murdoch ordered, remaining calm even as the geth frigates closed in on the dying gunboat.

"Yes sir!"

The _Shanghai's_ deck vibrated as its powerful Magnetically Accelerated Canon fired a trio of rounds. The salvo of dense metal slugs, the size of cars, tore across the void, the violence of their passage muffled by the vacuum of space. Crashing against the lead the geth frigate they smashed into shields and warped armour.

"Enemy shields holding sir!"

"Fire missiles on Alpha!"

The cruise missiles were ejected out of the _Shanghai_'s missiles tubes. Seconds later their motors ignited and they spun towards their target. Spiralling towards the lead geth frigate, they converged on their unfortunate victim. Tearing through its weakened shields the torpedoes blew through its armour and then detonated their payloads.

The ensuing explosive blasts were quickly silenced by the void of space, but the damage was done. With its superstructure ripped apart by the blast, the lead geth frigate gently disintegrated in the vacuum, shedding its components in a strangely hypnotic display

The remaining geth frigates reacted quickly with inhuman reflexes. Pirouetting through the void of space, they quickly approached the _Shanghai_ from different angles. Ashley had the uncanny impression of a pack of prehistoric raptors surrounding their prey before diving in for the kill.

The _Shanghai_'s gunnery crew unleashed a salvo of shots at one of her attackers. Punching through the void, they smashed into the vulnerable belly of one geth frigate, the powerful rounds overwhelming the barrier emitted. Its gut shredded by the powerful rounds, the dying frigate managed to retaliate by unleashing a final plasma projectile.

Smashing against the _Shanghai_'s bow, the impact sending the cruiser rearing up like a startled stallion. For the briefest of seconds, gravity was lost as power was shifted towards kinetic barrier emitters.

"Dive, pilot!" Captain Murdoch snapped and the _Shanghai_ immediately fired her manoeuvring jets, diving away from the crossfire of slugs and missiles. Firing off a snapshot missile shot, the _Shanghai _managed to nail one of its attackers in the nose, throwing off its targeting lock.

"Where's our backup, Comms?" Murdoch snarled as the _Shanghai_'s hull groaned with stress. Normally the cruiser travelled as part of a flotilla, but the past months had forced them to scatter in order to cover more ground.

"_Benjamin Davis_ and her escorts are ETA in ten minutes." The ensign managed to snap off, before the entire vessel shuddered once more.

"Damage Control, report!" Murdoch snapped

"Shields took it. Down to 60% and holding, Captain."

"Excellent…" Murdoch muttered to himself. In a head to head fight the _Shanghai_ could eat a geth frigate for breakfast. In a four to one brawl however, the cruiser was outmatched. Surrounding the cruiser from all angles, the geth frigates dove across the cruiser's flanks, moving too fast and too close for the cruiser to bring its guns to bear.

"Gunnery! Prep missile pods one to twelve and cold launch on my command!"

"Sir! Which target do we lock on?"

"Cold launch and then wait for my signal."

To their credit, the gunnery crew of the _Shanghai_ didn't balk at their commander's flagrant disregard for missile launch protocol. Packing enough explosives and dirty eezo to level an entire settlement, Alliance protocol dictated that the missile be encoded with their target parameters, versus leaving them out floating in the void.

"Missiles launched." Gunnery finally confirmed the order, as Ashley looked askance at the captain.

Murdoch studied his sensory readouts as the geth frigates began their attack runs on the _Shanghai_'s rear. One particularly aggressive frigate manoeuvred perilously close to the cruiser's flank, when Murdoch snapped out the command.

"Detonate the missiles!"

The ensuring blast was not spectacular, truth be told. Trapped in the vacuum of space, the explosions were quite miniscule to the usual damage the missiles were capable of. But it was enough. The shockwaves emanated from the blast crashed into the trailing geth frigate, pulping armour and crashing through shields. Vulnerable synthetic circuits overloaded and the lifeless frigate drifted off into the stars.

Before the _Shanghai_ could celebrate, the remaining geth frigates primed, armed and then unleashed a storm of plasma torpedoes. Locked onto the cruiser's engine signature, the missile's sensors blithely ignored the hail of jamming signals.

"Torpedoes, 1,000 metres and closing!"

"Fire GARDIAN lasers!"

The cruiser's GARDIAN lasers opened fire, ultraviolent lasers spitting out into the void. The first lance of lasers burned through the first set of plasma torpedoes, burning out their cores. The second set of torpedoes suffered the same fate, save for three. Spiralling past the overwhelmed GARDIAN suite, they propelled themselves straight into the _Shanghai_'s flank and then detonated.

The ensuing blast nearly sent Ashley to the ground, as the shockwaves travelled across the _Shanghai's_ frame. Were it not for the forged durasteel spine that held the ship together, the _Shanghai_'s back would have been shattered.

"We got a breach!" the Damage Control officer wailed as the cruiser's alarm klaxon blared. "Fire crews dispatched to decks one and two"

Ashley snarled as she hung on. The _Shanghai_ may have been battered, but the hardy cruiser could still fight. In response the cruiser pulled up and rocketed towards the system's star, daring the geth frigates to pursue it with the sun's rays in their vision.

"_Davis_ and her escorts are in system, Captain!"

"Designate targets for her fighter squadron" Murdoch calmly ordered.

Already the cruiser's communication tech had activated the tactical VI and encoded its targeting parameters. Synchronizing itself with the VI's of the inbound squadrons of F-61 Trident fighters, the human forces quickly coordinated their firing solutions.

Sensing that they were outgunned and outmatched, one geth frigate fled towards the system's Mass Relay, whilst its partner stayed to defend it. Its goal of maintaining a heroic last stand was shattered as the _Davis'_ escorts fired a long range barrage of MAC slugs. Ripping through the geth ship's barriers and punching through its armour, the unlucky geth frigate crumpled under the impact even before the two squadrons of torpedo carrying fighters came into range.

The escaping geth frigate almost made it to the relay, when the _Shanghai_ came about and unleashed a barrage of slugs into its rear. Crushing its engines and smashing its anti-fighter laser-array to pieces, the vessel was virtually helpless as the swarms of fighters pounced on it, hurling disruptor torpedoes into is weak spots. Unstable mass effect fields ripped apart the frigate and within minutes all that was left of the frigate was wreckage.

"I want eyes on that gunboat!" Murdoch curtly ordered as the _Shanghai_ vectored in on the lone vessel in the void. The wounded gunboat limped weakly towards a nearby a planet, as its engines trailed eezo.

"Tell it to heave to and standby for boarding." Murdoch's eyes narrowed as the _Shanghai_ closed in on it "I want to know what it did to tick the Geth off."

* * *

_**Docking Bay**_

_**SSV Shanghai**_

_**Hercules System, Attican Beta **_

Ravanor Kratok weakly gasped for breath, as the human cruiser latched onto his ship via a tractor beam and pulled into its docking bay. Too wounded too even care as squads of heavily armed marines approached his vessel; he instead pondered the vagrancies of fate. Had the galaxy been toying with him this entire time? Sparing him at Thesca, only to steal his life at the end of a geth frigate's gun?

Kratok glanced down at his chest and winced at the gaping, wet hole that was where his armoured chest should have been. It had come when he had thought his pursuers had run into something larger. A synthetic frigate had fired off a round, the slug pulping his engines and ripping through his ship. Fragments of his own ships had sliced through the interior, ripping through the cockpit and reducing his chest to ribbons. His four lungs had been pulped, three of them outright shredded and the lone one struggling to keep him alive.

But now death was upon him and darkness nibbled at the corners of his vision. As the humans pounded on his cockpit, ordering him to open up, Kratok finally leaned forward and punched the necessary button, unsealing what was now his coffin.

As the marines surrounded him, most of them aiming their weapons, Kratok opened his mouth in a defiant grin as he coughed up blood, his blood. Finally with a crackling sigh, he died in the bay of the Shanghai, the cockpit of his beloved _Hellhound_ filled with bits of his flesh and blood. His last memory was the dusty, sun-baked flats of his native Tuchanka, as his conscious vanished and his soul leapt in the Void.

Barely meters away, Ashley shook her head, as the marines wrestled with the krogan's shattered corpse out of the gunboat's cockpit. The craft itself was little more than a wreck; its body gouged with scars that made it look a thresher maw's breakfast. Lying in the bay of the _Shanghai_, the formerly proud gunboat was a shadow of its former self, as pieces of it fell off.

Yet Ashley couldn't find any sympathy for its former occupant. Most law-abiding individuals avoided the Terminus Systems entirely and she doubted that the deceased krogan worked for any law-enforcement authorities.

For a second she paused, wondering whether the krogan had been a lost soul like Urdnot Wrex, a lone individual disgusted at the self-imposed decline of the krogan species as they struggled against their imposed sterility. Shaking her head, she moved away as the medics carted the krogan's corpse towards the cruiser's med-bay. The galaxy was full of lost souls and this was very little she could do for them.

As Ashley turned away, a part of her could help but recognize an all too familiar stench about the corpse. Turning around, she marched through the escort of marines and in front of a stunned medic, took a deep sniff of the krogan's corpse.

"Yup, that's what a dead krogan, smells like." The medics offered, as he struggled to shove the heavy corpse onto the stretcher.

Ashley shook her head. No something was off about this corpse.

One of the things she had quickly learned to tolerate during her missions with the _Normandy_ was the distinct stench of krogan corpses. The usual rule of thumb was to use incendiary ammunition or heavy ordinance. You either had to burn the damned things to death or shatter them.

But this stench was damned unique. And familiar. She could have sworn she had smelt this scent a long time ago.

_Eden Prime_. _Feros_. _Virmire_. _Plasma._ Unlike their organic counterparts, the geth preferred to encase their slugs in some sort of energy sheath. The physics were complicated at best, but the end result was a slug that would literally burn its way through a target before delivering the full kinetic energy of the impact. It was a deadly, brutal weapon and it left a trademark stench.

This krogan hadn't randomly encountered the geth whilst travelling through some star system. Whoever he was, this krogan had encountered and fought the geth on foot. Judging from the scorching that ran along his body, he had encountered a platoon at least. But the geth never limited themselves to just a platoon.

One of the deck officers strode forward, loudly complaining about the delay, until Ashley turned and quickly interrupted him.

"Permission to escort the corpse, sir?"

* * *

_**Human Embassy Offices**_

_**Citadel**_

_**Widow System, Serpent Nebula**_

Councillor David Anderson morosely studied the letter that he had received back from Earth. It was a letter from his son, Jason, excitingly detailing his experiences at university. And for the life of him, Anderson could not recall where the boy studied at.

Anderson sighed, as a wave of melancholy and remorse washed over him. Moments like this made him wonder whether he had made the right choice all those years ago. Lord help him, sometimes he wished for a second chance. A second chance to fix things with Cynthia, a second chance to raise his son, a second chance to rethink his life.

"_It's best this way_" Anderson thought to himself, as he wiped at his eyes. Cynthia had remarried, found another man to love and care for her and Jason. _Henry…yes that was his name._ As much as he should, Anderson didn't find it in himself to work up any feelings of jealousy at the though of another man sleeping with his ex-wife and raising his biological son. Just… regret at a lost life.

If his memory served him right, Henry was now an executive in some shipping firm, based out of Atlanta. A man with his connections would serve Jason better than a broken down solider like himself. _No…it was better this way_. And as much as he could, he couldn't find fault with the man. Henry was a gentle, loving husband to Cynthia. And for some reason, that sentiment didn't make Anderson lose his temper.

For as much as he hated to admit, the Systems Alliance was his family, as ridiculous as that sounded. As much as Cynthia had tried during their doomed marriage, he had never felt more at home than in the barracks laughing at some off-colour joke cracked by his squadmates or in the battlefield fighting against some aliens hell-bent on his death. But now he couldn't even have that.

Instead he was an old man, beaten down by experience and devoid of even a command. In his youth he had hoped to go one and command at least a frigate in the Alliance Navy and the _Normandy_ had tempted him with that dream. But now it was gone and so too was his dream. Instead he was condemned to serve out the rest of his existence on the Citadel, dealing with conniving politicians, indolent bureaucrats and snooping reporters.

His Omni-Tool chirped, waking him from his reverie and Anderson returned to reality. He was seated in the Human Embassy, his eyes fixed on the datapad bearing his son's message. Casting it aside, with no small measure of relief, he instead activated his Omni-Tool:

_Geth Incursion reported and stopped at Maroon Sea Cluster_. _Hostile geth forces consisted of four frigate class warships. Casualties: three crewmen injured. First responder: SSV Shanghai_

_Geth!_ Anderson leapt to his feet, before belatedly realizing there was nothing he could do. Instead he settled for pacing his office as he tried to picture what was happening. Was it an advance force? A retaliatory strike? A simple mistake? Or God forbid was it merely scouts for the Reapers?

* * *

_**Briefing Room A**_

_**SSV Shanghai**_

_**Hercules System, Attican Beta **_

Ashley Williams stood quietly as Captain William Murdoch and Lieutenant Jeremiah Guo stared at the technician as the young woman fumbled with the holoprojector's controls. After what seemed to be an eternity, the young technician finally found the requisite button and activated it.

A blurry image appeared and then resolved itself into a series of dots connected by lines.

"Ahh…what am I looking at?" Guo blurted, as the technician blanched under the glower of the two officers.

"It's ah, a record of the gunboat's last flight path." She finally replied, nervously wiping her hands on the sleeves of uniform. Accustomed to dealing with the guts of fighters, gunships and even the cruiser itself, the technician was intimidated by the presence of the two officers.

Catching her eye, Ashley flashed a reassuring grin. After all, not too long ago she had been in the same position on the _Normandy_ questioned by two of the greatest legends in Alliance history. Captain David Anderson, hero of the First Contact War and Commander Shepard, the Saviour of Elysium.

Though she had to admit, she had been half giddy with excitement upon meeting the latter. She could still remember it now; that distinctive accent, the chiselled features, the piercing eyes, the tanned skin and the scar that ran across his face. In a matter of seconds, her normally brusque manner had been reduced to that of teenage fan-girl complete with the half-baked flirtatious glances.

"Williams?" A voice interrupted her brief reverie.

"Yes, Captain." Ashley quickly snapped back to reality, suddenly aware of the attention she now held.

"Explain why my deck officer found you sniffing at a krogan's corpse. Have our cooks failed to satisfy your fill of flesh?" Murdoch repeated, his sardonic wit giving a sharp edge to the question.

From the corner of her vision, she could see the ghost of a grin appear on Lt. Guo's face.

"It's the way he smelt, Captain." Ashley replied, catching the look of bewilderment that flashed on Guo's face.

"Smelt, Chief?" Murdoch questioned, his eyebrows raised as he wondered whether he was dealing with a mad woman. Anything was possible after one spent time in the company of those N7s.

"Geth weapons leave a distinctive mark sir." Ashley continued, struggling to put words to what she felt "It's the plasma guns they use; they burn through flesh with a _very _distinctive smell."

"So you mean to tell me that the krogan lying in our bay ran into the geth on some planet, whom then proceeded to give chase across three separate systems?"

"Yes, sir."

"And are you sure of this?"

"_Yes, sir_"

Murdoch was silent for a moment, as Guo glanced thoughtfully at the holoprojector. What she was suggesting, with what she was backing it up with, would throw Alliance High Command into hysterics. Barely holding itself together after the Battle of the Citadel, the prospect of another geth invasion unattractive in the extreme.

"What do you think, Lieutenant?" Murdoch asked Guo, his eyes bearing down on the Lieutenant.

"Williams is prickly, blunt and quick-tempered, sir" Guo finally replied "She is a hard-headed case and highly cynical at the best of times."

Ashley flushed, as Guo gave an abrupt summary of her personality. At least this time no one called her a damned racist.

"_But_, her instincts are always on the money." Guo continued, tossing a respectful nod along Ashley's way "I concur."

"I see…You two are dismissed."

Snapping a salute, Operations Chief Ashley Williams and Lieutenant Jeremiah Guo left the presence of Captain Murdoch. Wearily rubbing his forehead, he opened up a line to the bridge.

"Yes Captain?" The communications ensign asked, wondering what was so important that the captain would open a direct line with him.

"I'm attaching a report. Send this straight to Arcturus. Request confirmation of receipt and contact me on this line when you have it."

Murdoch sighed to himself, unaware of the nervous technician still present in the room. _What did the krogan see to make the geth chase across three systems? _

* * *

_**Admiral's Office**_

_**Arcturus Station**_

_**Arcturus System, Arcturus Stream Cluster**_

Admiral Steven Hackett frowned as he read the report from the _SSV Shanghai_. On patrol in the Maroon Sea Cluster, the cruiser had encountered four geth frigates chasing down a lone gunboat. The geth had been dealt with, but the gunboat's pilot had died, expiring on the deck of the _Shanghai_ itself.

So now humanity faced the spectre of another geth invasion, this time with no knowledge of where the geth hid or when they would strike. Evidently the geth were bold enough to venture into human space, even just to destroy a lone vessel.

He needed eyes in the Terminus Systems and he knew just the people to put in place.

"Get me a secure line to the _Ain Jalut_" Hackett contacted that officer in charge of Arcturus Station's Quantum Entanglement Communicator. "I'm on my way."

* * *

_**CODEX ENTRY: SSV Shanghai**_

_**The SSV Shanghai is a heavy cruiser, designed and built by the Hashimtoto-Cobol Conglomerate to the Alliance's specifications, it was the first of its class to be delivered. Nominally bearing the same outward appearance of its "standard" cruiser brethren, the Shanghai-class warships are a new addition to the Alliance arsenal. **_

_**Taking into account the harsh experience of the First Contact War and the responsibilities of protecting Alliance space from slavers, pirates and warlords, the new Shanghai-class heavy cruisers were added to the Alliance arsenal in 2177, seven years after the "Tragedy of Mindoir." **_

_**Optimized for heavy engagements and sovereignty patrols, the vessel epitomizes the sturdy, durable nature of humanity's engineering and its commitment to advancing it goals. Combining the firepower of battleships, the independence of destroyers and force-projection ability of Hornet-class assault carriers, these new vessels were designed to ensure that incidents such as the Mindoir never happened again. **_

_**Armed with the Mark VII Thunder-class Magnetically Accelerator Canons manufactured by BAE-EADS Aerospace Inc, these vessels have the ability and firepower to launch and sustain a volley of shots. At full power a salvo of rounds from its Mark VII canon can rip through a Vallum-class cruiser. **_

_**In addition the Shanghai retains the standard banks of Naginata cruise missiles. Packed with high yield explosives its onboard sensors detonate its multiple warheads in precise time sequences designed to overwhelm and neutralize enemy kinetic barriers. **_

_**Finally it carries an expanded onboard complement of at least two companies of marines and a platoon of armoured vehicles. Whilst many have complained that multi-role vessel cannot perform all its tasks simultaneously, proponents argue that it is a cost-effective method of protecting human interests. **_

_**Thus the Shanghai and her sister "heavy-cruisers" retain the capability for colonial support operations, planetary invasions and anti-piracy raids. Whilst its large size prevents Shanghai vessels from landing directly on planets instead it utilizes its host of dropships to quickly deliver its troop complement. **_

* * *

_I know Mass Effect: Revelation says that Anderson and Cynthia had no children, but the Shadow Broker files seem to hint at otherwise (They refer to a boy named Jason whom for some reason looks up to Anderson. Sounds like his son)._


	7. Operation Hammer - Part 2

"_You will be defender of humanity and all her people. You will be the shield that will protect her colonies. You will be the sword the cuts through her enemies. You will be the best that humanity has to offer and more. You have been given the best equipment, training and resources possible. And we demand __**nothing less**__ in return"_

_- Admiral Shawn Harrigan's address to the recent graduates of the N7 program -_

"_Know your enemy and know yourself and you can fight a hundred battles without disaster._

_- Art of War, Sun Tzu -_

_**15 months after the destruction of the Normandy**_

_**SSV Ain Jalut**_

_**Nemean Abyss**_

The _Ain Jalut_ floated silently through the void of space, its passage unmarked and unnoticed. With it's swept down delta wings and its curved prow, the stealth warship harkened unto a graceful swam swimming through the stars.

The younger sibling to the _SSV Normandy_, the _Ain Jalut_ followed in her design. Equipped with her own Tantalus Drive Core and Internal Emission Sinks, the _Ain Jalut_ inherited her sister's talent for stealth and subterfuge. State of the art, advanced sensors allowed it to penetrate the chaos that was the galaxy and peer into the depths of enemy's fortifications.

Armed with a spinal mass accelerator canon and a bank of Javelin disruptor torpedoes, the _Ain Jalut_ had teeth and firepower to make any unlucky foe that discovered her meet their doom. A skilled helmsman could pilot the ship deep in the heart of an enemy formation and hurl a swarm Javelin missiles straight into the heart of its flagship and then flee before anyone was the wiser.

Captain Sasha Makarov stood at the helm of the stealth ship, as her pilots guided the frigate through the deadly Nemean Abyss. Her mission was relatively simple. Follow the last known route of a deceased krogan and find his synthetic pursuers. With their stealth technology, the _Ain Jalut_ would be able to linger in the system for days on end, sweeping through the asteroids and planets if need be.

"And we've made it Captain." The co-pilot reported as the _Ain Jalut_, drifted silently, her heat emissions absorbed by the high-grade lithium sinks built into the vessel. The stealth frigate coasted through the scattered debris and asteroids that plagued this system.

The _Ain Jalut_ silently scanned its surroundings, her on-suite VI banks dutifully cataloguing everything the sensor's caught. Chemical composition of nearby asteroids, solar output of the system's stars, background radiation and traces of eezo were recorded, analyzed and stored in its electronic databanks. A team of expert naval analysts, poured over the data as it came in, noting inconsistencies that would reveal their prize.

"Whoa…Picking up something on the scanners." The co-pilot reported, as his VI chimed insistently. Slaving one of the _Ain Jalut's_ sensory arrays around, he programmed the VI to fire series of short laser pulses designed to quickly provide an image of the target without revealing their position.

Makarov frowned as the image of a derelict Athabasca-class freighter slowly materialized on her screen back in the CIC. For the infinite time, she wished that whoever designed the _Ain Jalut_ hadn't fastidiously followed the _Normandy_ inch-by-inch. A captain's place was at the front, with her helmsman and operators, not stuck at the back relying on suit radios and VIs.

"Registry matches it as the _MSV Thunderback_" Her XO informed her, as he thumbed through the VI's analysis of the wreckage.

If it was matched to the terran registry, then it meant it was a human vessel. What would a human vessel be doing out in the Nemean Abyss? Even the Blue Suns refused to set foot in such a lawless sector, let alone an unarmed tramp freighter.

"Getting a ping, captain." The communications officer reported. "Its Alliance issue."

What was an Alliance beacon doing out here in the Nemean Abyss. For a brief Third Makarov wondered whether the _Normandy's_ death had been faked and whether the _Ain Jalut_ was about come to face to face with her older sibling. But shaking her head, she instead focused on the task ahead.

"Navy?" She queried, her strict professional tone hiding her curiosity

"No Captain…but its definitely one of ours." Came the response

_Intelligence_. That's whom it had to be. No one else would dare set foot in the darkest regions of galactic space. What had she stumbled upon? Was it a band of operatives trapped in lawless space? A lone agent sucking down the last vestiges of oxygen in his suit?

"Get the QEC up and running." Makarov snapped "And get Commander Werner and his team prepped for Zero-G."

* * *

_**SSV Ain Jalut's Storage and Cargo Bay**_

_**SSV Ain Jalut**_

_**Nemean Abyss**_

Staff Lieutenant Jacob "Boss" Werner snapped the last piece of armour into place and nodded confidently at the rest of his team. The distinctive N7 badge and red detail on his right arm, proudly declared him a member of the elite band of comrades.

Werner cast a discerning eye over the rest of his squad. Too small to host even a platoon, the _Ain Jalut_ had to make do with merely two squads. Commanded by Werner, they were meant to reconnoitre objectives, designate targets and god forbid, defend the _Ain Jalut _from boarding.

But now they were being dropped in some of the most hostile space known to man. A zero-g rummage aboard a floating wreck in the middle of the Nemean Abyss spelled trouble and were he a lesser man, Werner would have refused the order.

But Werner was a rare breed of humanity, a man whom saw danger and menace as a challenge to be overcome. And overcome this challenge he would.

"Troopers!" Werner bellowed, instantly bringing his marines to attention. Handpicked from some of the toughest Alliance veterans of the Terminus Systems, he had chosen his team well. Made up graduates from the legendary N-villa, all were N5s or N6s. All of them were deadly warriors, sharp-eyed snipers and stealthy operatives. Discretions, loyalty and firepower were their watchword. They were Team Wolfpack.

"Our op today, is simple." Werner continued, his infectious confidence flowing into his team "We are to reconnoitre the _MSV Thunderback_, recover any Intel possible and located possible survivors. Questions?"

None was asked. _Good Soldiers_. Werner nodded to himself. He eschewed the _Normandy's_ practice of interspecies teams. No on Alliance stealth warships the crew had to be loyal, _human_ comrades. No room for krogan warlords, turian agents, quarian mechanics and asari archaeologists. How Shepard had managed to prevent an outright mutiny was beyond him.

* * *

_**Quantum Entanglement Communication Room**_

_**Arcturus Station**_

_**Arcturus Stream Nebula**_

Admiral Steven Hackett allowed a frown to spread across his face, as the _SSV Ain Jalut_ reported in. Captain Makarov had followed the trail of jumps gleaned from the dead krogan's navigation computer and had landed in the Nemean Abyss. What they had found were dead planets, asteroid belts and the wreckage of a human freighter. What truly was curious was that an Alliance beacon was hailing the stealth frigate.

Makarov had taken the initiative to send in a team to reconnoitre the dead freighter, hoping to glean some clues as to its demise and the presence of a classified beacon. But Hackett's old instincts howled in protest. The last time they had yowled was when the _Normandy_ had been sent to investigate the Omega Nebula.

Wearily he shook his head. The _Ain Jalut_ bore a mere superficial resemblance to its deceased sister, the Alliance incorporating the lessons learned from the legendary prototype. His engineers had assured him that the stealth system had been modified to cover the ship's transition entry and exit out of FTL, something the original _Normandy_ didn't have.

Yet Hackett couldn't help but wonder whether he was stepping into a larger game, played by forces larger than the _Ain Jalut_, himself and even the Alliance.

"No way out but through" He muttered to himself. It was too late to pull the _Ain Jalut_ out. Even if he could, he owed humanity an explanation as to how and why four geth frigates powered into human space.

"Sir?" One of the confused technician queried, confused by what the Admiral had muttered underneath his breath

Silently Hackett ignored the technician as he contemplated all the possible scenarios. He had a feeling that this was going to be more than a simple reconnaissance mission.

* * *

_**MSV Thunderback Wreckage**_

_**Nemean Abyss**_

Staff Lieutenant Werner wouldn't admit it, but he abhorred zero-g ops. The disorienting lack of gravity, the sound of his own breath and the glare of the uncaring void of space starting back at him, all conspired to engender dread whenever he had to venture out into space.

But Werner was not given to surrendering to his phobia and neither was the rest of his team. Which was why at that very moment they were floating away from the graceful _SSV Ain Jalut_, towards the mangled remains of the _MSV Thunderback_, small thrusters built into his suit firing to keep aligned to his destination.

Even at one kilometre out, Werner could tell that he would be encountering no survivors. Whoever had hit the _Thunderback_ had been precise and efficient. The cockpit on the Athabasca-class freighter had been violently sheared off and the engines had been drilled through. Even the large, powerful comm. array had been ripped apart and he could see the trademark bore-holes of boarding parties. _Slavers, it had to be_.

Yet the presence of the Alliance beacon hailing the _Ain Jalut_ was truly curious and he was duty bound to investigate it, dread be damned. His boots clanged as they made contact with the hull of the _Thunderback_ and as his magnetic soles activated. He was grateful for solid ground or hull if you wanted to be precise about it. He did not look forward to floating through the hazardous wreckage.

True to their ingrained professionalism, Team Wolfpack didn't engage in idle chatter as they moved through the wreckage. Moving silently, their movements muffled by the vacuum, each soldier kept an eye on the partner next to them. With a wreck like this, danger could be lurking within the errant pieces of hull, wiring and furniture.

His scanner picked up the steady beat of the Alliance beacon. Moving to where the signal was the strongest, Team Wolfpack stacked up outside what appeared to be a single, passenger compartment. As errant pieces of wiring and fuselage floated past them, one operative wielded a cutting torch and began to work.

The simultisms loved to depict Special Forces as using frame charges in situations ranging from breaching a fortress to simply opening the refrigerator. Yet Team Wolfpack new that detonating an explosive charge in a floating wreck filled with potentially compromised eezo canisters was suicide. Plus if someone was alive on the other side, the blast would kill them.

Finally the compartment's door gave way and was batted away into the swirling mess of floating furniture and equipment.

One of the troopers gave the all-clear sign and Werner moved into the compartment. No bigger than the captain's cabin on the _Ain Jalut_, the simple compartment was sparsely decorated. A lone bed took up one corner, its rumpled bedding floating against the ceiling. A rather humble desk took up the other corner, its legs bolted to the floor as data-pads floating helplessly around it.

Werner frowned. The beacon's signal was strongest in this "room" and yet he couldn't immediately discern it. Obviously whoever activated it had hidden it well, praying that their captors wouldn't bother to scan for its signal.

Motioning to one commando, the pair of them began to rifle through the mess of the cabin. Werner batted away a lone light fixture that came near his visage. Spying something the subordinate tapped Werner on the shoulder, motioning towards the bottom of the desk.

Leaning underneath the bolted down fixture, Werner finally spied what he was looking for. A single half-sphere had been hurriedly hammered into the desk, a lone flashing red light giving its position away. _It was the beacon, it had to be_.

Werner reached for it and then hesitated. He had no way of knowing whether it was booby-trapped or not. The last thing anyone wanted was to have an explosive trap detonate in his face. Motioning at the explosives expert in the squad, he signalled the expert to scan the object.

Moments passed and Werner found himself sweating as awaited the operative's inspection. After what seemed to be an eternity, the expert gave the all clear and Werner finally held the rather humble sized beacon in his hand. Devoid of any official emblems or markings, Werner knew of only one group whom operated such devices. _Alliance Intelligence_.

Savouring his victory, Werner opened up a line with the _Ain Jalut_.

"Team Wolfpack here, objective secure…"

Suddenly an explosion of movement erupted beyond the door of the passenger compartment. Throwing himself to one side, Werner spied a round slash past him and bury itself in the bulkhead behind him. The commandoes beside him raised their rifles and fired a burst back into the swirling mess of errant

A single red laser burned out from the swirl and into one operative's rifle. Violently slapping his rifle in a bid to free the overheated thermal clip, the commando wisely moved behind cover as a burst of slugs silently tore where he had been moments ago.

Firing their thrusters, the commandoes of Team Wolfpack manoeuvred in the vacuum. Trapped in the belly of the _MSV Thunderback_, the commandoes sought to gain any advantage over their attackers. Activating his thrusters, Werner powered out from the passenger cabin, his two comrades on his flanks.

"Jester, clear that mess!" Werner roared over the squad's internal communication network. Without a clear line of sight on their attackers, Team Wolfpack was fighting blind.

Jester, the team's biotic, violently punched the air with his fist. The swirling mess of freed furniture, torn hull plates and warped armour suddenly ploughed forward towards their attackers. The wall of debris crashed into their attackers, smashing against kinetic barriers and crushing armour.

_Geth_! Werner finally recognized their attackers, as a lone geth synthoid tried to aim its rifle, despite being impaled on a metal beam. Werner dodged to the side as the burst missed him and fired a hail of rounds in return. The valkyrie rifle fired true and the powerful rounds ripped past the synthetic's shields and ripped its head apart.

Beside him, the squad's gunner; "Ozone", finally opened fire with his heavily tooled typhoon light machine gun. The powerful gun coughed an ever accelerating hail of slugs, the flash from the rifle's barrel casting a harsh light on their surroundings. For a brief Third Ozone resembled the ghost of an angry god hurling judgement and destruction on all those whom challenged them. The remaining trio of geth were violently ripped apart as the rounds pulped into them and then suddenly it was all over.

Cautiously Werner moved forward, his valkyrie trained on the dead geth in front of him. Tentatively kicking at one, he leaned forward and fired a precise round straight into its core. Around him the commandoes of Team Wolfpack dispassionately copied his example. After all geth were not covered by the Citadel Conventions.

* * *

_**Quantum Entanglement Communication Room**_

_**Arcturus Station**_

_**Arcturus Stream Nebula**_

"Say again, Captain?" Admiral Steven Hackett frowned as he listened to Captain Makarov's report. The _Ain Jalut_ had deployed one its squads to recon the wreckage of the _MSV Thunderback_ and from what they could tell it was bad.

"There were no bodies, Admiral." Makarov repeated, her piercing stare replicated over a thousand light years away "No corpses either human or alien. All team Wolfpack found was the data-disk and a squad of geth troopers."

Geth troopers on board the vessel, the lack of bodies and now an Alliance encrypted data disk. On a tramp freighter in the middle of the Nemean Abyss. Something was off and Hackett was determined to find out.

"Understood, Captain." Hackett nodded in reply "Remain in system and maintain observation. Contact me as soon as you have more information and watch your six."

"Roger that, _Ain Jalut_ out" Makarov signed off and Hackett was left alone in silence.

In the confines of the QEC comm. room, Hackett pondered the new information he had received. _Ain Jalut_ had definite proof of a geth presence on the other side of that relay. Whether it was significant remained to be seen, but he couldn't afford to simply hope for the best.

As much as the media portrayed it, the Battle of the Citadel wasn't the roaring success it was. The geth armada had made the human fleet pay dearly for their victory, and even then Hackett wasn't sure they had eliminated all the Geth.

The tactician in him realized that the geth could have seeded outposts all over space, ready to rally for another strike at a weakened foe or continue a campaign of ruthless guerrilla warfare. The death of the _Normandy_ could have been opening salvo in their Third assault on humanity. Their assault through the mass relay could have been a cover for a scouting party.

He needed answers. He needed to now what an Alliance data-disk was doing on a tramp freighter out in the Nemean Abyss. He needed answers _now_.

"Contact, Director Lang. "He snapped at the communications officer "I want him in my office in _pronto_"

Fifteen minutes later Director Stephen Lang of Alliance sat fuming in Admiral Steven Hackett's office, coldly staring at him across his desk. Hackett's haunches always rose whenever he encountered the man, his mannerisms resembling a cold, calculating cobra, but today he wanted answers.

"Pray, Admiral," Director Lang finally began, his voice barely concealing his irritation "What possessed you to _summon_ _me_ to your offices?"

In response, Hackett slid forward a lone datapad. Wordlessly the admiral activated it and and the barely controlled voice of a lone human operative played out from the pad's speakers.

"This is 'Mobius', we've been attacked." The agent breathed desperately into the datapad, as in the background an alarm shrieked. "The captain tried to take a shortcut, but we've stumbled onto something.

Hackett deliberately folded his hands and stared pointedly at Director Lang, as the agent desperately tried to dictate his position into the datapad. Finally the recording ended with the bone-chilling shriek of durasteel being ripped apart.

"Explain." Hackett curtly ordered. He was done fumbling in dark, done trying to build a house with no mortar.

To his credit Director Lang didn't blanch at the most powerful military man in the entirety of Alliance space. Alliance Intelligence was nominally a civilian organization, answering directly to Parliament and no one else. Yet both knew that one couldn't exist without the other. Without intelligence, the Navy wouldn't know where to place their ships and without the Navy, the Intelligence couldn't defend humanity.

"After Commander Shepard's death, we examined the possibility that the _Normandy_ was betrayed by an insider." Lang coolly spoke, pointedly ignoring the raised eyebrows from Hackett "We seeded our agents throughout the Terminus and Attican Beta and began to investigate."

"What did you find?" Hackett gruffly interrupted, disguising his unease at the prospect of having a traitor amongst an Alliance stealth frigate.

"A lot." Lang continued, politely ignoring the rude interruption "Slavelords, mercenaries, the _Geth_ and even Cerberus. All wanted Commander Shepard dead"

"What about the cruiser that attacked the _Normandy_?" Hackett queried, his tone measured and controlled. His analysts had no clue as to where that vessel came from or whom it belonged to.

"Myths, legends and gossip." Lang replied "Nothing solid, concrete to go on. But we did find this."

Land activated his omni-tool and sent a single file across to Hackett. Bringing it up on his own omni-tool, Hackett briefly sucked in his breath as it played out on the holographic screen.

A crashed geth dropship lay in a verdant green valley. Its belly lay crumpled on the valley floor and surrounding it were a groups of uniformed humans. Hackett could see armoured guards patrolling the perimeter. A team of engineers were busily setting up a turret near the downed vessel and a constant stream of workers carried equipment in and out of the synthetic ship.

"This was sent by Mobius, from an unknown location." Lang explained, as the Hackett studied the image. "It didn't concern Shepard, but it did concern the geth and Cerberus, two groups with a reason to hate him."

"What are they planning?" Hackett asked. The prospect of a terrorist organization getting their hands on lethal geth technology was a frightening one. The last thing the galaxy needed was for some warlord armed with geth's advanced technology to start a new conflict.

"We don't know." Lang admitted, a rare admission from the normally taciturn spymaster "We sent in a vessel to extract Mobius from the prearranged drop-zone but he had disappeared"

"Disappeared?" Hackett queried, unease rising within him. Did Cerberus get their hands on the agent?

"We sent one of our corsairs to pick him up, but their vessel was destroyed with all hands." Lang continued "As far as we could tell Mobius was dead."

"So you mean to tell me…"

"Yes, Admiral" Lang finished, "We have no clue as to how and why our agent's beacon showed up in the Abyss halfway across the galaxy."

* * *

_**Interfaith Chapel**_

_**SSV Shanghai**_

_**Caspian System, Maroon Sea Cluster**_

The distinct smell of incense wafted through the makeshift chapel on the _SSV Shanghai_. Ostensibly a storage compartment for cleaning equipment, the crew of the _Shanghai_ had converted the rather small space into a temporary place of worship.

Closing her eyes in prayer, Ashley Williams began whisper to the divine.

"_Our father who are in heaven…"_ Ashley began, her hands clasping onto a rather humble set of prayer beads. Amongst her few private possession, the beads held a special place in her heart. Carved from the rosewood imported all the way from earth, it was a present she had received from her mother upon graduating from infantry assault training.

Her fingers moved quietly over each individual bead, reminding her of whom to pray for. A prayer for her grandfather that he might some measure of comfort in the afterlife. A prayer for her father, that he might at least find some rest in heaven. A prayer for her mother, back home on Sirona, that she be blessed with the strength to handle Ashley's sisters. A prayer for her deceased comrades that their deaths will not have been for nought. A prayer for Alenko that his memory be honoured. A prayer for….

Ashley paused as her finder hovered over the last bead, a recent addition in comparison to its brethren. Ever time, she did her prayers; she would hesitate at the last bead. A part of her clung onto the idea that Shepard had survived the void and was now marshalling his forces to defeat his reapers. Yet the cynic in her crowed that even Shepard's fortitude and wit could not hope to match the cold, uncaring, vacuum of space.

Every sapient knew what happened with zero-g exposure. If you were lucky, you suffocated due to the lack of oxygen. If not….death was not pretty. Whether it was the absolute zero temperatures that froze your body as your nerves screamed in agony. Or it was your organs rupturing as they los their integrity to the sudden drop in pressure, your blood boiling in the cold void of space. Death was guaranteed within five minutes of suit rupture.

Still Ashley hesitated. No matter how she reasoned, she couldn't bring herself to say the prayers. To admit that Shepard was dead and gone. To admit that the galaxy's hope against the Reapers was dead. To admit that the man she had loved and cared for, had left her cold and alone in this life.

"Chief…" A deep voice murmured from behind her.

Ashley turned around to regard the new source. Corporal Behari, stood respectfully behind her. Nodding sympathetically, he passed a note to her.

_Company meeting in ten minutes. Clear your omni-tool and bring your data slate – Lt. Guo_

* * *

_**Private Quarters**_

_**Citadel**_

_**Widow System, Serpent Nebula**_

Councillor David Anderson read the report that Admiral Steven Hackett had forwarded him. _The Nemean Abyss_. A dark heart in the twilight of the Terminus Systems. A place so lawless and wild, that most reputable navigational charts simply pretended that it didn't even exist.

According to the _Ain Jalut's_ team, one planet in particular stood out. Resembling a dried out version of earth, by all account it was the closest thing that system had to a garden planet. Combined with the spike in electronic chatter and signal emanating from that planet, any layperson wouldn't hesitate to say that it was inhabited.

Except that most denizens of the Nemean Abyss avoided that patch of space. Even the most hardened of pirates and slavers religiously avoided that sector. Except one. According to the captain of the _Ain Jalut_ they had discovered a crippled freighter, registered as the _MSV Thunderback_. More surprisingly they had found an Alliance Naval Intelligence beacon onboard.

Councillor Anderson had spent enough time amongst the admiralty to read between the lines and he understood enough about the Alliance's strategic capabilities to understand what Hackett was subtly requesting. _They needed help_.

It made sense really. The Alliance may have emerged victorious from the Battle of the Citadel, but it was in no shape to prosecute a war deep into the heart of the Nemean Abyss. Concerned with protecting her colonies and new found responsibilities, they simply didn't have the manpower or the material to send a fleet's worth of warships.

For a Third Anderson considered encouraging Hackett to send some mercenaries instead to finish the job, but he cast that thought aside. At most they'd likely get a company's worth of mercenaries and that wouldn't be enough to deal with the geth in that system. No, they would need fleet support, close air-support, armoured vehicles and the works.

_Task Force 121_. Assembled in the aftermath the human-led, multi-species task force had occupied itself with removing geth outposts in Council space. Denied the chance to reclaim their lost honour at the hands of their synthetic attackers, the turians had been irritated with discovering most of the outposts were empty.

As a councillor, he had no formal military standing. But he did have the contact information for the various Turian captains and admirals whom would be amenable to sharing space with human vessels.

One turian came to mind: Ambassador Orinia. A tough, suspicious, former general whom served in the First Contact War, she was one of the few turian whom Anderson had built a tenuous rapport.

It was 2:00 pm, Citadel time. If he calculated it right, he would catch the ambassador as she returned from lunch or whatever the turians called. Rising quickly from his chair, he exited his office and began to march towards the turian embassy.

What he was doing was a diplomatic faux paus. Bypassing the turian councillor and speaking directly to his ambassadorial underling was the political equivalent of marrying your date without asking for the father's blessing.

But then again he was a Citadel Councillor, Anderson reminded himself. He was responsible for protecting humanity's interests within the hallowed halls of the Citadel.

He marched past the turian receptionist whom manned the front desk, a corner of his mind noting the young assistant punch a button that alerted the ambassador to his arrival. A few turian guards tried to politely stop him but he sailed past them, even as a part of him enjoyed exercising his new power.

Coming to a halt, he finally allowed the nervous turian officer whom had followed him all the way from the reception to knock at the door for him. Nodding respectfully at the turian as the doors slid open, he was greeted by the turian ambassador.

"Afternoon, ambassador." He began, "Does the Hierarchy still want a chance to defeat the geth?"

The smile that began from the corner of her face told him everything he wanted to know.

* * *

_**Arcturus Station**_

_**Arcturus Stream Nebula**_

Attacking the geth fortress in the Nemean Abyss was not going to be a simple task, Hackett rued to himself.

Anderson had already put him in contact with his opposite number in the turian navy. Under the banner of Task Force 121, a strike force of two human and three turian flotillas would conduct the attack on Planet X91.

What Hackett failed to detail was that there Thirdary objective was to recover an alliance asset, named 'Mobius'. An asset that could contain valuable information on Cerberus' relationship with the geth.

Now all he had to do was convince his fellow human admirals to surrender their vessels to a task force that was about to go deep into the Nemean Abyss. It would be an exercise in diplomacy, Hackett realized. Normally cagey at the best of times, the admirals would be sure to demand a series of compromises from him. At best they'd merely wound his pride. At worst they could scuttle the political relationship forged with the Citade.

The First, Third and Fifth fleets had already lost enough vessels in the Battle of the Citadel to make recruiting any warships from them a null probability.

The Third Fleet was headed by Admiral Nitesh Singh whose captains shared their leader's xenophobia. Choosing Singh to join a cross-species task force was asking for a disaster. Singh wouldn't open fire on a turian vessel mind you, but he would growl and moan the entire way. Strange how some admirals could act like children.

That left the Second, Sixth and Seventh Fleets. All three had their hands full protecting human colonies, patrolling alliance space, counter-piracy operations and defending the Citadel.

But the Sixth Fleet had Admiral Samantha Smith. Ever since the embarrassment of Terra Nova (a stealth frigate defending _their _territory) and the Battle of the Citadel, the Sixth Fleet had been chomping on the bit to recover a bit of their pride. If Hackett remembered correctly, she had participated in an asari-human war games exercise a few years ago.

Sixth Fleet it would be, Hackett decided. Smith might give him hell, but she would jump on the chance for at least a few of her captains to salve her fleet's pride.

Thirty minutes later Hackett was standing in the Quantum Entanglement Communication Room in the heart of Arcturus station. Beside him the operator went through the protocols of opening an encrypted QEC channel.

A part of Admiral Hackett marvelled at how far humanity had come since the past twenty years. A little more than three decades ago, humanity had barely dreamed of overcoming its differences and forging a new future. Now it had unified itself, a thousands of it traditions, specialities and morals forming to become one player on the galactic stage.

The holographic forms of Admiral Smith and Singh, materialized on the projectors in front of him.

As they went through the formalities of greeting each other and confirming their authentication codes, Hackett wondered which of the pair would be harder to convince. Would it be Smith whom would be asked to surrender two previous patrol flotillas or would it be Singh whom would saddled with the task of filling in the holes?

Admiral Smith eyes momentarily widened as Hackett made his request. Finally she responded

"You mean to commit three of _my_ flotillas, take twenty one of _my _vessels to strike at the geth that _may_ be in the Nemean Abyss" She asked, with no small trace of virtriol in her tone, "To do someone else's work for _them_?"

Hackett wisely prevented himself from sighing in frustration. He knew the Sixth Fleet's patrol and defence of the Attican Traverse had undergone a brutal test in the past few months. A wave of opportunistic slavers and mercenaries, gambling that the Navy would be stretched thin had launched a series of raids on human interests and colonies.

As much as Smith critiqued the prospect of handling Task Force 121's (TF 121) workload, they all knew that at the moment it existed merely as an intelligence sharing set-up. And the longer the organics kept from working together, the more time the geth had to recover.

"Read the briefing, Smith." Fleet Admiral Nitesh Singh snarled "The birds are committing are willing to commit three of their battlegroups to this. Are we really gonna back down from that?"

Hackett grasped how Singh's confrontational mindset perceived the turian response as: a challenge. A test to see if the humans were really up to task of shouldering the responsibilities of being a Council member in the long run, not just in one battle.

"Ah yes I forgot." Smith sarcastically snapped back "We're all friends now; peace, brotherhood and Kumbaya. Where the hell am I supposed to get three _free_ battlegroups from?"

In another day and time, Hackett would have stood back and watched his two fleet admirals verbally brawl with each other. Polar opposites in many ways, their personalities clashed as their fleets defended human colonies far from the arms of Arcturus. But up till now he believed that they had been able to maintain at least some decorum.

"Fine, Smith." Singh threw down the glove "I can commit the _Moscow_, the _Sydney_ and their respective battlegroups. Can you spare at least one cruiser, Smith?"

The holographic avatar of Singh leaned back in contentment as he licked his chops at the prospect of upstaging Smith. Yet Hackett could see the corners of Smith's lips curl up in a satisfied smile.

"I'll do one better" Smith replied "I'll commit the _Shanghai_ battlegroup, the _Benjamin Davis_ and the _Shasta_."

The holographic avatar of Singh all but dropped its jaw in shock. Smith was committing her prized assets to the taskforce, in essence robbing Singh of the lion's share of the prestige. The carrier _SSV Benjamin Davis_ and the dreadnaught _Shasta_ were the emblems of the Sixth's power and in essence added her personal signature to the operation.

"Can she do that?" Singh sputtered, before he collected himself "I mean, can the Sixth Fleet handle its current responsibilities without one flotilla, its carrier _and_ its dreadnaught."

Now was the time for Hackett to step in and exercise his authority. The trick was to do so without making an enemy of either admiral.

"I'm sure the Sixth Fleet will defend human space….if the Third Fleet is willing to shoulder with the rest of the Navy." He calmly intoned, as he fixedly stared at Singh.

For as much people described Singh as a bull in a china shop, the man possessed a certain low cunning. He knew when he was beaten and he knew when to press forward.

"The Third Fleet will help Sixth defend their sectors…and I will personally oversee it from the _Logan_. ETA 24 hours" Singh meekly surrendered, even as a flash of defiance swept through his eyes.

"Thank you, Admiral Singh." Hackett replied, nodding respectfully at the Third Fleet's admiral.

As Singh signed off, no doubt to give his new marching orders to his fleet, Smith remained online. Staring at Hackett, she gave off an intensity that reminded him of the proverbial mongoose as it studied its prey.

"Singh was never meant to command the strike force, was he?" She finally asked, after what seemed an eternity of silence.

Hackett dodged the question by sending an encrypted data burst of the QEC channel. The holographic avatar of Smith flickered as the data was shot all the way across the galaxy from Arcturus to the _Shasta_.

"I see…"she began as she thumbed through the briefing. Task Force 121's assault was merely a cover for the Alliance's true objectives: Recover 'Mobius'.

"How sure are you about this, Hackett?" She curiously asked, briefly revealing her interest in the underlying objectives. The idea that one agent could have so much information on Cerberus' activities sounded too good to be true, but stranger things have happened.

Hackett could have sworn he saw brief flicker cross Smith's face, but he couldn't tell whether it was a glitch in the communicator's software or a genuine crack in her façade.

The late Admiral Kahoku and Smith had always been comrades in arms, the pair of them creating and supervising the tactical teams that scoured the Terminus Systems. Rumour had it that Smith had allowed one single tear to fall down her face upon hearing of Kahoku, but such talk was best left to taverns and bar-rooms.

"Truthfully…I don't know." Hackett finally answered, as he stared back at Smith. It was the truth. As much as they wished otherwise, even in the 22nd century, the fog of war was ever present.

What he was asking Smith was beyond what any normal fleet admiral should ever expect to bear. In essence he was asking her to accomplish two differing objectives at the same time while keeping half of her strike force in the dark. Anyone else would have sworn off such a task, but Smith was different. Smith possessed a capacity for cunning that could compete against the canniest of Salarian dalatresses.

"Hmm…I see." Smith replied, "I will of course be commanding the strike force from the _Shasta_. Am I right?"

Hackett nodded as he acquiesced to the admiral's request. Besides Smith was the admiral bringing the dreadnaught _and_ carrier to the party, it would have been pointless to argue otherwise.

"I will be detailing an N7 squad to you." Hackett added "Team Neptune. They're good and disciplined. Use them how you see fit."

"Aye, aye. Smith over and out."

As the holographic avatar of the Fleet Admiral Smith winked out of existence, Hackett's mind was plagued with a hundred different thoughts.

Why did the geth target the _MSV Thunderback_ in the heart of the Nemean Abyss? Why didn't the geth, the masters of synthetic technology, discover the Alliance beacon on the freighter's wreckage? What were the geth up to one a rock so obscure that most of civilization simply forgot that it existed?

* * *

_**Planet X51**_

_**Nemean Abyss**_

Jason 'Mobius' Barnes groggily returned back to consciousness. His eyes adjusting the darkness, as he gradually became aware of his surroundings.

Hanging from a rather medieval use of mass effect fields, Mobius was suspended in mid-air via a series of mass-effect fields. Placed at the back of a dimly lit chamber, the walls carved out of ore and rock, the only source of a light was a single recessed bulb which hung from a rocky ceiling.

He craned his neck and examined his surroundings. Around him were slaver pens, they type favoured by batarian pirates. Large enough to fit fifteen doomed souls, they now swelled with nearly twice that number. Humans, most of them adults were crowed into confined pens, with barely enough room to move.

_Slavers…_Mobius mentally cursed his luck. After surviving nearly two years alone in the Terminus Systems, dodging suspicious gangsters and bloodthirsty mercenaries, he had been captured by batarians on his way back home.

"_You should have waited…_" A corner of his mind whispered. Mobius shook his head. Waiting would have been a one way ticket to the interrogator's chair where they would have sucked out his brains and dumped his corpse on some backwater shit-hole.

Not that what the slavers had in store was any better. If he was lucky they'd put him to work somewhere in the Terminus Systems. If was he damned he'd be sold in Hegemony space, serving as canon fodder in the endless brush-fire wars that plagued that corner of the galaxy or worse.

His ears picked up a small whimper over to his left side. Craning his neck to the left, he stared down into the nearest slaver pen. A little girl, couldn't have been older than six, was huddled by the corner of the pen. Strangely enough, the child had the entire pen towards herself, in sharp contrast to the dozens of pens that were crammed with adults.

"Hey, hey…" He murmured gently at the source of whimpering. "That's enough don't you think?"

Before the child could respond, the durasteel doors at the end of the chamber flung open and four figures marched in. In that instant Mobius' heart almost froze in terror.

Marching step by step, with a precision that would put a Turian military parade to shame, the four figures strode into the room. Their torsos resembled their organic ancestors and their pasty-white musculature betrayed their origins. Yet one look at their heads and their eyes betrayed their true form. _Geth_

The emotionless machines strode through the room and without a word, yanked back open the door of a single pen. The frightened humans within cowered back, as the machines coldly examined their captives.

Suddenly, one of the machines learned forward and grabbed on a decidedly elderly captive. Shrieks of horror and terror echoed across the chamber, as Mobius found himself yelling at the automations

"Leave him alone! He's worthless." He desperately yelled, despite being unaware of their true intent

The other captives in the pen tugged at the elderly human as the geth pulled on him from the other side. Within Thirds the other geth moved into the pens, striking at the captives. Bowling over in agony, the captives released their hold and the elderly man was yanked into the cold embrace of the automations.

Marching their captive forward, one pair of geth marched their prize through the chamber, whilst their comrades sealed the cage. The pair of geth passed by Mobius hung and would have continued until one paused.

Turning its glowing eye to regard Mobius, its electric snarl deepened and then rose in frequency. Its cold hands still holding onto its captive, its headlight burned into Mobius face, as definite chill ran up Mobius' spine.

"What do you want?" Mobius managed to croak out, as a wave of terror rose up from within him.

With dismissive electronic snarl, the geth turned away and marched its captive past the durasteel doors. As the light vanished once more, Mobius found himself alone in the darkness with only his fear to keep him company

* * *

_**CODEX ENTRY: SSV SR1 Ain Jalut **_

_**Built in a hidden location deep in Alliance space, the Ain Jalut sought to rectify some of the design faults that plagued the original Normandy. Sharing its sister's optimization for stealth reconnaissance, its designers added an enlarged onboard weapons complement that adds Shiva-class mines to its standard complement of disruptor torpedoes, spinal mass accelerator canon and GARDIAN suite. Albeit this comes at the cost of losing its ability to deploy the M35 Mako, a feature the crew of the original Normandy used to great effect.**_

_**One improved feature of the Ain Jalut, is its updated Tantalus drive. While the original Normandy's Tantalus drive allowed it drift through space without relying on thrusters, the act of engaging or disengaging it generated a minute, momentary spike in electromagnetic emissions. Too small to be registered by even the geth, alliance intelligence nonetheless believed that this fault may have given away the Normandy's position to their mysterious assailants. **_

_**Officially the Alliance denies the existence of the stealth warship, though pictures of its profile at an Alliance ship depot circulate widely throughout the extranet. In essence the Ain Jalut carries its sister's legacy of human innovation in the face of a changing galaxy. **_

* * *

_I know the mass effect codex defines a flotilla as 5 or 6 frigates lead by a cruiser, but I used the term "Battlegroup" to avoid confusion with the Quarian Flotilla. _


	8. Operation Hammer - Part 3

"_Let me tell you something. I have fought on every conceivable battlefield across the galaxy. I fought during the Skillian Blitz. I've survived the bloodbath on Torfan. I lead the charge during the Thesca Raids. But I have never felt fear as when the geth attacked us on Eden Prime"_

_- Anonymous Alliance Marine, name withheld on request -_

"_One mark of a great soldier is that he fight on his own terms or fights not at all."_

_Sun Tzu, The art of war –_

_**The Eastertown Gun Range**_

_**New Hampshire,**_

_**Sirona, 61 Ursae Majoris System**_

_**- Year 2174 (9 years before the attack on Eden Prime)**_

Ashley Williams hefted the Mark III Ariake Naginata rifle and carefully examined the weapon. Its blocky outlines were a far cry from the gracefully forms preferred by the asari or clean lines preferred by the turian, but none could match its reliability.

At seventeen years of age, Ashley possessed a talent for weaponry that many would envy or…worry about. Whilst most girls, her age, read the latest romantic novels or shared the juiciest gossip, she spent every free moment pouring over technical data for almost every military equipment in the known galaxy.

In contrast to her peers, whom struggled with the basics of the asari dialect, she had memorized the lingua de franca of the Terminus Systems. Whilst most students were bored to distraction over the exploits of twentieth century earth history, she had buried herself in the exploits of the legendary General Patton. Whilst most of her peers were bored to death over the basis physics FTL drive, she could detail the inner workings Hahne-Kedar's prototype Diamondback assault rifle.

However this came at a cost. Her high-school years had earned her a reputation for being prickly, blunt and quick-to-anger. The high school athletes learned to avoid her and even the prattling teenage drama queens found that Ashley was unafraid to get physical. Her family's reputation had earned her only a few friends during high-school and whilst most of her friends got shit-faced drunk on prom night, she had waited up eagerly for her father's arrival from his last tour of duty.

But now that was gone from her mind, as she aimed down the perfectly tuned marksman's rifle and sighted down on her targets. In that moment she wasn't just Ashley; a gangly teenage girl going through the last stages of puberty. In her mind she was Commander, no, Captain Ashley Williams, legendary graduate of the Inter-Combatives Academy, the most famous human ever to wear the coveted N7 badge. In that moment the paper targets became something more, more than simple representations of an imaginary foe. In that moment, the Williams' name became something to be proud of.

She fired three times. Her shoulders adjusted to take the hammer blow of the powerful rifle, her stance absorbing the kickback. The paper targets rippled backwards from the impact, the powerful round punching through and burying themselves in the padded backstop. Lowering her rifle and activating its fold-sequences, Ashley felt a ghost of a smile cross her lips. _Perfect hits_. The Alliance would have awarded her the marksman badge for those shots.

"Madeline."

Interrupted from her reverie, Ashley crashed back to reality. Gone was Captain Williams; the legendary N7 Commando. Instead she was just Ashley Madeline Williams; an awkward teenager alone on a gun range on Sirona.

"Mum." Ashley replied, turning to regard the matronly figure before her.

Her figure weathered but unbowed, Shirley Williams frowned at her eldest daughter. Ashley was so much like her late father, bless his soul. So driven, so _focused_, that they both forgot the bigger picture.

She knew that her daughter would steal away during the dog days of summer, holing herself up on this gun-range, practising on almost any weapon the range had available, whilst most her peers sauntered down the beach in their swimsuits chatting with their friends.

She dreaded this moment every since her husband began to regale their daughters with tales of valour and glory. As the rest of her daughters dozed off, Ashley would stay up and listen as Burton Williams told stories of legendary human warriors beating the odds through guile, courage and firepower. She had dreaded this moment when she spied Ashley stand at attention as they lowered "grandfather" Williams', the disgraced former general of Shanxi, coffin into the ground on that cold, winter morning.

Shirley Williams shuffled towards her daughter, pointedly staring at the paper-mache targets at the end of the range. A part of her dreaded moment, didn't want to believe that Ashley has set her sights on the Alliance Navy. Didn't want to admit that her daughters wanted to venture into the cold, uncaring galaxy.

"Perfect shots." Shirley murmured a note of reluctant approval in her voice "Your father would be proud."

"What about you?" Ashley retorted.

Shirley sighed. Ashley had certainly inherited Burton's ignorance for the subtleties of conversation. In another time and place that would have been a virtue, but in this galaxy it was a handicap. No, nowadays everyone had to hide their emotions behind insincere words. Shirley had learned this hard way, in the aftermath of the First Contact War, as friends turned their back on the 'disgraced' Williams family.

"What do you think?" Shirley snapped despite herself.

_Damn it!_ Why didn't this girl drop this ridiculous fantasy of hers and embrace reality. The Alliance Navy was no friend of the Williams family and Burton had paid the price for their prejudice. Twelve years of slaving away far from the family on the ass-end of Alliance space. Twelve years of crap assignments, of denied promotions on the lowliest of excuses. She had married a proud, courageous man. She now cared for a burned-out shell of a human being, whom held himself together if only for her and the children.

She would be damned if she allowed the same to happen to her daughters.

"I saw the application, _Madeline_." She continued, pointedly emphasizing the last world, reminding her daughter of her place. To her credit Ashley caught the hint and relaxed her stance, acknowledging her authority. Yet Shirley caught the fire in her eyes, the same fire that drove Burton out into the galaxy and ultimately to his death.

"I…was waiting…" Ashley began to stammer, before catching herself.

Despite herself, Shirley felt a twinge of sympathy. Ashley had always found it difficult to expose herself, a side-effect of creating layers of emotional armour to deal with the prejudice of her peers. It had gotten her through school, through the snide glances and the gossip that surrounded her family. Children could be incredibly cruel.

"Waiting for what, my daughter?" Shirley asked, as her heart sank knowing what Ashley wanted.

"For your blessing, Mum…" Ashley finished, looking at her with hope in her eyes.

The moment Shirley had found her daughter's application into the Systems Alliance Navy, hidden underneath her socks, a part of Shirley's heart broke. The Navy had taken her family's honour, taken her husband and robbed her children of their father. And now it would take her eldest daughter.

She could refuse it. She could refuse to bless Ashley's dreams and she knew her daughter would honour her decision. Because as much as Ashley pretended to rebel, she clung to her father's concept of honour and family. Even if it broke her, Ashley would be loyal to the Williams family.

"You have it." Shirley replied, even as a part of her heart died. "On one condition"

Ashley froze midway through a grateful hug.

"You will sign it when you are an _adult_." Shirley pointedly continued "I will not have my daughters sign away their lives when they are merely teenagers."

As Ashley happily embraced her mother, Shirley felt a tear escape her eyes. _What sort of mother allows her children into the lion's mouth?_

On the ride home, as Ashley excitedly told her about her plans to ace basic training, apply to the Officer's Academy and then to the Inter-Combatives Academy, a part of Shirley knew that reality would crush that dream.

The sins of the father stained the sons. She prayed that it would _not_ stain the daughters.

* * *

_**Crew Showers**_

_**SSV Shanghai**_

_**In Transit: Exodus Cluster – Attican Beta**_

_**15 months after the Battle of the Citadel**_

Ashley wearily washed herself as the shower blasted her with ice-cold water. The mechanics had promised to fix the water heater. That had been four days ago. Now the crew of the _SSV Shanghai_ had to brave the icy blasts of water, every time they needed to clean themselves. A few crewmembers had tried to dodge washing themselves, until the captain had made an example of one particularly pungent marine.

It was all rather ironic, Ashley thought to herself. It was the 22nd century, humanity had vessels that could wander the stars in safety and reliability, had enough firepower to slag entire planets to molten rock and could push past the speed of light on a whim. Yet the mechanics on a top of a line heavy-cruiser didn't have the ability to fix a simple, bloody water heater. If she wasn't blasted with near freezing water, she would have laughed at the idea.

Ashley exited the shower, towelling herself off as she reached for a change of clothing. Moving to the adjoining change-room, she began to dress herself for the day. Lieutenant Guo had ordered to ensure that the entirety of second platoon was up to par and she had accordingly planned a day full of tactical drills. First they'd go over the team's hand-to-hand combat, then to the firing range to see if their marksmanship was still up to snuff and then finally a mock boarding exercise.

The _Shanghai_ had reversed its course from Arcturus was now headed to the Attican Beta cluster, the border between humanity and geth space. Guo wouldn't be thrilled to find that one of his squads were out of shape and it was Ashley's job to ensure that it wouldn't happen.

* * *

_**Cargo Bay**_

_**SSV Ain Jalut  
Nemean Abyss**_

_**High Orbit over Planet X91**_

Staff Lieutenant Jacob "Boss" Werner slotted a pack of fresh thermal clips into his bandolier, as Team Wolfpack prepared for another deployment. This time it was a groundside deployment on a world so ignoble that it didn't even warrant a name. The _SSV Ain Jalut's_ computers had flagged the rock as _X91_, but as far as Werner was concerned it was going to be his home for the next 36 hours.

'Ozone' wandered past Werner, encased in his heavily modified T5-V Battlesuit. He allowed the ghost of a smile cross his lips, as 'Ozone' pestered the team's engineer for another last minute inspection of his suit.

Borderline illegal in civilized space, the team's heavy gunner had lovingly modified the battle-suit from its original specifications. Equipped with his beloved Typhoon LMG with a pair of distinctive face shields bolted to its frame, 'Ozone' had the ability to lay down an entire squad's worth of firepower within ten seconds.

Werner, himself, boasted several near-illegal mods, courtesy of Hahne-Kedar Shadow Works. On top of the gene-mods that went beyond the already generous standard Alliance kit, Werner had a pair of implants installed in his skull. 22nd century technology had merged with human ingenuity and Werner was one of the first soldiers to have ocular synaptic processors that were wired into his nervous system.

With a mental twitch, Werner could send a stream of synthesized, enhanced adrenaline and a rush of endorphins rushing through his body. His perception of time would slow down and his already impressive lethality would skyrocket as he would fire his weapons more precisely. A coordinated jump in his suit's kinetic barriers would send more energy into his weapons, his now-enhanced body handling the sudden surge of electrons rushing over its skin. As far as he knew, no other species attempted such a level of modifications, not even the militaristic Turians.

But now….Even Werner had to wonder whether it would be enough. Their first rumble in this system and they encountered the bogeymen that were the Geth. While individually each unit merely possessed an animalistic intelligence, easily outmanoeuvred and eliminated, they truly became lethal on a scale unmatched by organics when coordinated In numbers, they boasted a combined processing that would put some of the galaxy's super-computers to shame. With nigh instant reaction time and battlefield processing that would put some of humanity's greatest generals to shame; a Geth army was nightmare to confront.

This was why Command had sought fit to deploy Wolfpack onto this rock. Onto a rock that displayed a higher than normal level of comm. chatter and eezo discharge. Onto a rock that civilized nations hadn't bothered to even name. Onto a planet that contained ruins from a civilization so dead and gone, that no one even knew what their name was.

Werner prided himself on Wolfpack's professionalism. Whether they were cutting their way through batarian slaver camps or deployed on covert black-ops, Team Wolfpack never failed to disappoint him. But now…he wondered whether X91 would be their grave.

"Team Wolfpack, assemble!" He barked, his stentorian voice echoing in the _Ain Jalut's_ cargo bay. Reacting instantly, his team snapped to attention, the very picture of professionalism.

"Our op is simple," Werner briefed. _That was understatement_. "We drop in, we observe, we designate targets."

From the corner of his eye, he saw Ozone flip a coin towards the team's marksman, a surreptitious bet on the outcome of the mission. Werner intended to skew the odds in his favour.

"We maintain op sec, fire when fired upon." Werner continued "we remain discreet, unseen, unheard, and invisible."

"OORAH!" The team bellowed in response.

* * *

_**Hangar Bay**_

_**SSV Shanghai  
Attican Beta Cluster**_

_Ninety Seconds_. That was all they had. In ninety seconds, the marines of Hunter 2-2 would decide the fate of the _SSV Shanghai_. In ninety seconds the 300 crewmembers and marine's fate would be decided, by the actions of Hunter 2-2.

Hunter 2-2 hurtled past the racks of suspended dropships, their chests heaving with exertion and their weapons held out in front of them. Finally the marines of second squad, second platoon, Hunter Company skidded to a halt at the side of dormant gunship.

Corporal Samuel Behari peeked around the corner and then motioned forwards. A lone marine darted past the corner, sweeping up and down the corridors with his assault rifle, covering the likely lanes of attack.

"Clear!" the marine hissed. His comrades darted forwards, wielding an assortment of assault rifles and shotguns. Together they had enough firepower to put down a lance of charging krogan and the tactical flexibility to outmanoeuvre a Turian phalanx.

Until from the racks of the gunships, a shot lanced out drilled into the helmet of one marine. Crashing to the floor, his rifle fell away from senseless fingers.

"Contact!" Behari bellowed and the marines threw themselves in whatever little cover was offered. A barrage of shots erupted from all around them, as their attackers surged forwards towards the marines.

Reacting quickly one marine primed and then hurled a grenade towards the mystery attackers. Seconds later a load blast echoed through the secondary hangar of the _SSV Shanghai_, hurling their attackers aside in a cloud of electric fire and gas.

"Frag out!" The forward fireteam of second squad hurled a series of grenades towards their attackers, the blasts knocking back their opponents. Moving quickly, they rose to their feet and fired into the downed forms of their attackers.

Pushing forward the marines charged towards their objective, Behari pausing momentarily to pump a round into one opponent whom struggled for their weapon. Moving quickly, the squad's combat engineer ran his omni-tool over a rather innocuous cargo crate that lay between two dormant dropships.

"It's armed!" the combat engineer cried out, before a high-powered round crashed into his skull and threw him backwards.

Behari cursed and fumbled at the engineer's neck, desperately searching for a pulse. Behind him, the explosive hidden in the crate silently counted down till until it finally exploded in a blinding flash of light….

"Endex!" Operations Chief Ashley Williams bellowed as she strode out from behind the towering, hefting her assault rifle. Around her the supine forms of "OpFor" marines raised themselves to their feet, a few helping up the downed forms of Hunter 2-2.

She winced as the combat engineer woozily rose to his feet, helped up by his comrades. Training rounds were specifically designed to be non-lethal but they could hurt like a bitch.

"Congratulations, Behari." Ashley continued, fixing the corporal with a piercing stare "You just saved your engineer's life…but we just lost the _Shanghai_ with that explosive charge."

Behari grimaced underneath Ashley's stare, as the marines Hunter 2-2 nervously fidgeted. For the past week, Ashley had been running combat drills on all the platoons of Hunter Company. Counter-Boarding exercises, CQB drills and even a full combat drop in the simulator.

At the least platoon meeting, Lieutenant Guo revealed that the _Shanghai_ was diverting towards the Attican Beta cluster. Guo didn't reveal why, but rumour swirled of a tran-system assault. Already several sailors whispered that the entirety of the Sixth Fleet had diverted from its usual patrols.

They were taking the fight back to the Geth. After the rumble with the four geth frigates, Ashley knew that it was only a matter of time till the Navy decided to counter-attack. And truth be told, she relished the opportunity for some honest-to-god payback.

Which was why Ashley ran the platoons hard during the exercises, drills and simulations.

"Casualties _will_ happen, Corporal." Ashley continued her remonstration, as the corner of eye picked out the distinct form of Lt. Guo. No doubt monitoring her tutelage, Lt. Guo had been a surprising supporter of her tactics.

"But it's up to _you_ to make sure they did not die for nothing. The priority is the _mission_." Ashley finished, before fixing the rest of Hunter 2-2 with a piercing stare.

Her eyes ran over the dejected forms of Hunter 2-2 and the awkward marines whom played "OpFor".

"Behari I can count at least three things you failed to do." Ashley continued her remonstration of Hunter 2-2 and Corporal Behari. She knew her reputation as a hard-ass earned her few friends on the _Shanghai_, but she was responsible for maintaining the fighting effectiveness of second platoon. If she had to bruise a few egos, so be it, but she would not lose a comrade to careless mistakes. Not ever.

"One, you failed to deploy a reconnaissance drone." Ashley began to tick items of her list "Had you done so, you would _seen_ Corporal Samantha's squad moving into flank you."

"Two, you failed to realize that your engineer's omni-tool has a cyro-blast function." Ashley continued her critique "if you don't know how to defuse it, blast the bloody thing with ice!"

For all their complexity, most ordinance in the galaxy could at least be slowed down with a blasted mass of super-cooled subatomic particles that snap froze anything on contact.

"Three…"

"Indeed Operations Chief." Lt. Guo interrupted, as he moved into view. The marines around him snapped to attention, even as he already was acknowledging their salutes.

"Corporal Behari, you would be wise to heed Op Chief's Williams instructions." Guo continued, a hint of a laconic smile tugging at his lips "Nevertheless your squad repelled the ambush admirably."

The marines of Hunter 2-2 brightened visibly under Guo's light commendation and a few were nodding their heads in agreement.

"Thirty minutes break. Then run the exercise again." Guo finished, with an encouraging smile on his lips. As the marines of "OpFor" and Hunter 2-2 broke off, he leaned towards Williams.

"What was number three, Williams?" Guo queried, tilting his head in curiosity

"The mission always comes first." Ashley replied.

Lt. Guo paused momentarily, a brief wave of emotion crossing his face. Was it respect or was it disgust? Ashley couldn't tell and a part of her didn't care. She wasn't in the Navy to make friends; she was there to do her part in defending humanity and her family's honour.

Finally Lt. Guo replied.

"Do not take their failings as a personal slight, Chief Williams." He intoned, as if her were an ancient mystic. "Train them hard, but train them fair."

* * *

_**Planet X91  
Nemean Abyss**_

Werner had been part of the joint-species taskforce that consisted of STG operatives, Asari huntresses and human commandoes that investigated Ilos. For two weeks they scoured the ruins, whilst the guns of the Third Fleet orbited above, warding away would be attackers.

Some compared Ilos to a hallowed graveyard, a mausoleum to a dead species. The decayed and degenerated corpses certainly added to that sentiment. Yet Ilos at least had some sense of ethereal grace about it, despite being the boneyard to an entire species.

X91 sorely lacked such ambience. Whereas Ilos had once been the homeworld for some civilization, this planet had the air of a fortress. Albeit a fortress with a hastily constructed shipyard and ordinance factory.

As a child Werner had grown up in the shadow of Core-Hislop Aerospace's orbital shipyards, sometime accompanying his engineer father to the floating construction yards. So he could recognize a shipyard when he saw one, no matter what species it was.

Yet most civilizations built their shipyards in orbit, far above the constraints of gravity. Why would someone build a shipyard on their surface of a planet?

All these thoughts flitted through Werner's conscious. Such is the power of the sentient mind.

Werner studied the imposing structure in the distance through a pair of electro-binoculars. Manufactured by the Hahne-Kedar Corporation they were reputed to be dependable, hardy devices. Still that gave him cold comfort as what he saw sank in.

An imposing structure, covered in decaying machinery and worn down armour, dominated the skyline. Built in the image of square pyramid, the gargantuan structure was large enough to put the Ostankino Tower in Moscow to shame. Ancient turrets, of calibres unknown, dotted the structure covering nearly every imaginable angle possible.

Surrounding it was a sea of industrial pipes, squat buildings and silence. Cranes of a hundred different sizes and dimensions hung silent, their motors frozen by the passage of the centuries. Decaying machinery clung to their supports, like bats to the top of caves. Ancient warships of designs unknown lay crumpled across the surface, as if hurled from the heavens by an angry deity.

For all intents and purposes life had ceased to exist on this corner of the galaxy. The sky was lit in an angry red, as the planet's thin atmosphere reflected the red giant star that dominated this system.

Yet it wasn't his surroundings that game him pause, despite their foreboding nature. It was the platoon of Geth troopers that marched through the derelict complex, their flashlights peering into the dark recesses of machinery. They were hunting for something, for what Werner could not discern.

Beside Werner, his two snipers kept careful watch; one searching for enemy sharpshooters and the other keeping his rifle trained on the Geth squad. The squad had converted an ancient cooling tower into a temporary observation post, the ancient control room serving as their shelter. Whoever or whatever had built it, had believed in direct overwatch of operations, its broken windows giving a commanding view of its surroundings.

Why the Geth hadn't taken control of such a prime location, was a mystery to him. Though their collective conscious probably preferred the secure position of pyramid fortress, as derelict as it was.

Suddenly one of the Geth lunged forwards and clutched at something hidden in darkened doorway. Through his binoculars he could see the synthetic forcefully pull a very emaciated human out into the dawn. No younger than forty years, the poor man made a pitiful sight, clad in a pair of sweat stained tunic and pants.

Yet something had been done to him. The top of the man's skull was covered in a decidedly metallic dome and Werner could make out the tell tale sign of a synthetic arm. Someone or something had grafted pieces of machinery onto this poor soul, for what purpose Werner has the smallest of suspicions.

He'd read the reports about Eden Prime, heard the stories about half-human, half-mechanical perversions that used to be marines, civilians, _human_ descend from mechanical spikes and hurl themselves on the living. Their arms replaced by the razor-sharp, electric tipped limbs with a single swipe they could cut through a marine's kinetic barriers and rip into armour.

This poor human, down below, however seemed to have no use for such synthetic implants. Desperately he tried to claw his way out of the cold, mechanical grip the geth trooper had him in, until another synthetic stepped in and sent the butt of its rifle crashing into the man's gut. Wordlessly the man crumpled to the floor, clutching at his stomach in agony.

For the briefest of seconds, the geth stared at each other, traces of their electronic snarls caught by the enhanced sensors of Werner's electro-binoculars.

Suddenly without the faintest of warning, one geth trooper aimed down its plasma rifle and then fired once. Devoid of any armour or shields, the man died instantly, the plasma-encased slugs burning through skin and flesh to rip apart his skull. The man's corpse fell to the ground with nary a whimper and all was silent once more.

"Hold!" Werner hissed, as the sniper beside him adjusted his aim and sighted down on the offending geth platoon. Firing now would only give away their position and bring the entire geth host on top of them. Firing now would serve no one.

Heedless of the commandoes' presence, the geth platoon turned around and marched back to the ancient fortress, one trooper stopping for the briefest of moments to sling the man's corpse over its shoulder. As the geth disappeared into the maze of pipes and machinery, Werner finally released his breath and let out the faintest of sighs.

This was going to be more than a simple assault op. The industrial surroundings, the geth platoons, the fortress and the lone human. Something was not adding up here and he be damned if he was going to stay in the dark forever.

"Corporal," Werner started, grabbing attention of the squad's engineer, "Get me a secure link with _Ain Jalut._"

* * *

_**SSV Shasta**_

_**Task Force 121  
**_

_**Theseus System**_

_**Attican Beta Cluster**_

Task Force 121 assembled in Attican Beta Cluster in its entirety. The _SSV Shasta, _the second dreadnaught of the Kilamanjaro class and the flagship of the sixth fleet presided over the gathering of frigates, cruisers and carriers.

Equipped with the Mark VII Mass Accelerator Canon, designed and built by Fukishma-Seoul Conglomerate, the dreadnaught's main canon, which ran along its central line, had enough power to deliver the kinetic blast of the Hiroshima atomic bomb five times over. Its array of broadside guns was capable of shredding a _Tawara-class_ cruiser within twenty seconds.

However while the _SSV Shasta_ was the flagship of the fleet, its crown jewel was the _SSV Benjamin Davis_. Carrying enough tonnage to be classed as a dreadnaught, the _Benjamin Davis_ chose to forego the powerful weaponry of its cousin in favour of a mobile form of damage.

Possessing a passing resemblance to its dreadnaught cousins, it instead featured a widened central line, its bow ending in two wide chutes that designed to release and recover its payload quickly, effectively and safely.

The massive _Benjamin Davis_ was one of the first and oldest of its kind; a carrier, a harbinger of a new era in warfare. Capable of disgorging squadrons of fighters, bombers and interceptors within seconds, it represented a new paradigm in interstellar warfare. Designed to jump in and release its deadly cargo through pressure tubes and take-off strips, the carrier had the ability to launch, sustain and retrieve squadrons for extended periods of time.

Its squadrons could sidestep massed canon fire from larger ships, overwhelm enemy fighter groups and deliver deadly torpedoes into the heat of even the most hardened dreadnought ever. It was akin to releasing a swarm of deadly hornets onto a foe. Deadly, blinding and too small to kill one swoop, these fighters were the next stage in galactic warfare.

And it was all perfectly legal. After all the Treaty of Farixen only limited dreadnaught production.

Admiral Samantha Smith inspected her forces, on the central display interface, holographic images representing her forces, as they entered into formation. It was truly an awe-inspiring sight.

Never before had Council forces had struck into the Nemean Abyss. Now with the Alliance and Hierarchy's battlegroups at her side she was going strike the final blow of the Geth war that started with Eden Prime. A part of her should have been thrilled. Instead she was uncertain.

Merely half-an-hour ago, the _Ain Jalut_ had transmitted new data on planet X91: Presence of human civilians. What was initially going to be a simple orbital bombardment on a geth presence on a dead world was transformed into a risky, planetary assault.

Even if she committed to the invasion, she had no guarantee that the geth would spare the civilians and even then she was unwary if they were truly that. For all she knew, those humans could have been pirates or mercenaries whom had simply been captured by the synthetic machines.

But the Arcturus had insisted and now she had the responsibility of rescuing humans stuck on that rock. True the spectre of one of them being a human agent was troubling, but she was uncertain of risking an entire fleet for one soul. Yet she was truly curious on the data this sole human had on Cerberus, the organization that had robbed her of close friends.

"Rolston, fleet meeting in twenty minutes, patch them into the CIC." Smith snapped orders at her dutiful XO. Smith had made her career in the Terminus Systems. She adapted, she always did.

* * *

_**Briefing Room A**_

_**SSV Shanghai**_

_**Theseus System**_

_**Attican Beta Cluster**_

Operations Chief Ashley Williams filed into the briefing room with rest of Hunter Company's platoon chiefs. Large enough to house an entire company with support crew, the briefing room resembled a modern take on the amphitheatre. In centre of the large room was an enormous holographic display. Capable of summarizing and displaying information from omni-tools, data-drives and even via radio communications, these displays had become common-place in organization across the galaxy.

A few of the platoon chiefs began to murmur amongst themselves until Major Chaterjee, the commanding officer of Hunter Company, shushed them. Ashley took her place beside Lt. Guo and other ranking officers. NCOs in the Alliance military, especially those in marine teams were encourage to forge close, working relationships with their commissioned superiors. After all, officers ordered, but it was the marines whom executed.

The doors slid open to allow the entry of the _Shanghai_'s executive officer. The guard detail barked, "Officer on the Deck, TEN HUT!"

In solid, smooth motion officers and NCOs rose to their feet, even as Captain Murdoch was already waving them back down.

"At ease." With that Murdoch moved towards the holographic display and stuck in a heavily encrypted data drive. Within seconds its built in processors decrypted, translated and projected the information.

"Gentlemen, here is our objective" Murdoch motioned towards the ball of rock that was rendered on the holographic display.

"Planet X91, official name pending Council review." Murdoch continued.

Even at the height of galactic civilization, only a tiny fraction of the galaxy had been truly explored. Only the adventurous, the brave or insane dared ventured into the untouched borders of the galaxy. Yet even with the Council's strict restrictions on dormant relay activation, nearly every few months, galactic cartographers had to update their charts, as new systems and planets were found. Sometimes even new systems were found in clusters that were supposedly swept through.

"48 hours from now, our battlegroup will join Task Force 121 and will enter the Nemean Abyss…." Murdoch continued, even as a wave of murmurs began amongst the marines. The _Shanghai's_ XO, Commander Chatterjee, cast a disapproving snarl into the crowd and they quickly quieted down.

Task Force 121 was a joint Citadel group dedicated to hunting down geth and driving them out of council space. For the past years it's distributed elements had been scattered around Council space, hunting down and eliminating geth outposts. But now the entire Task Force had been brought together to commit to deep, combined strike against a geth fortress found in the Nemean Abyss.

In essence they were sending a strong, political statement to the denizens of the galaxy: No enemy of the Citadel is safe, no matter where they hide. Too bad the Council failed or refused to grasp the bigger picture.

"…And eliminate this geth fortress." Murdoch brought up the image of a slight, middle-aged human male. Resembling a humble accountant, a far cry from the dashing figure often depicted in simultisms, this single human was important enough to warrant an entire fleet's presence.

Commander Charterjee took to the stage, "Lt. Donnahague; First Platoon will provide forward reconnaissance and act as FACs for the 417th's gunships"

"Attached to your brief are the authentication codes for the gunships. Commit them to memory and destroy them, you know the drill." Chatterjee continued..

From the corner of her eye, Ashley could see the corners of Lt. Guo's lips curl up in a frown. For the past month, Guo had bemoaned Second Platoon's lack of reconnaissance experience or practice. The brawl on the _MSV Pride of Digeris_ and the firefight on Uqbar had done little to reduce his perpetual sour mood.

"Lt. Guo, your platoon will secure landing zone Gamma for our armoured units. Lt. Francis will take the northern perimeter and Lt. Wilson's platoon will assist 3rd armour with sweeping Charlie sector."

Captain Murdoch leaned forward, staring at each man and woman in turn, as Chatterjee briefed the marines on their roles in the operation.

As Chatterjee finished, Murdoch spoke up "Questions gentlemen?"

Lt. Francis of third platoon raised his hand, as he rose to his feet.

"Why can't we just bombard it from orbit?" he queried, curiosity etched on his face.

"48 hours ago, we received intelligence that there might human civilians taken captive by the geth. As we all know the Citadel Conventions forbid targeting structures with civilians inside of them." Murdoch leaned forwards as he stared at his platoon commanders "For all intents and purposes this is a search, rescue and then burn operation. Watch your lines of fire, _but_ stay safe. I do not want _any_ heroics."

"What will the turians be doing?" Lt. Guo asked this time.

"The Turians are committing three battlegroups to this operation. Their ground forces will consist of elements from the 22nd Armoured and 26th Armiger Legion. Their cruisers will come with their own squadrons, but we'll be providing the bulk of the Close Air Support and the Combat Air Patrols."

A murmur rose upon mention of the 26th Armiger Legion. A renowned and feared frontline assault formation their troops, nicknamed Ghosts, they were the closest counterparts the Pathfinders had in any alien military.

"Gentlemen, I will remind you this. I expect at all times for you to conduct yourselves as marines of the Systems Alliance, _regardless_ of your political sentiments." Murdoch reminded his forces. He was no fool. He knew that resentment towards the turians ran high within the Alliance military, despite what the politicians wanted.

* * *

_**Abandoned Industrial Complex**_

_**Planet X91  
Nemean Abyss**_

Team Wolfpack carefully picked its way through the ruins of the industrial complex, their rifles up and covering their surroundings. Ozone moved up in front of the squad, his heavy machine gun primed and ready to shred any unlucky foe that wandered in front of him.

Now it the midst of the complex, Werner truly appreciated the enormity of the ancient structures that hemmed in around him. In sharp contrast the spires and arches of Ilos, this world had an industrial, military almost oppressive feel to it. The tactician within him spied prepositioned fortifications with overlapping lines of sight.

There had been a battle here once. Collapsed cranes and shattered fortifications hinted at the violence that had erupted so many centuries ago. Intermittent, desolate clearings hinted at orbital firepower wielded in the battle and decayed carcasses of ancient warships whispered of a sky once lit ablaze.

In sharp contrast to the magnificent desolation that lay around him, Werner's new objective was relatively simple. _Relatively_. Infiltrate the fortress, identify whether any captive humans lay at the geth's mercy and then prep for a rapid assault. If all went well, his team would be prepositioned for a strike on the geth's vulnerable whilst the marines of the Sixth Fleet smashed their forward positions.

"Contact, flashlights ten metres of my position. Moving towards us" Ozone's distinctive voice broke over the team's internal communications network.

_Flashlights_. The derogatory nickname for geth troopers, made up by human soldiers. The Turians called them "Vertockt"; soulless beings, a phrase that most translated had yet to catch. The Asari called them "Nishma"; white death, named after the colour of their 'blood'. The Krogan called them "pathetic", their bluster hiding the fear at encountering the unfeeling foes.

Quickly and smoothly Team Wolfpack disappeared into the shadows, pressing themselves against ancient piping or hiding behind derelict machinery.

The deep throated roar of a N7 Typhoon machine gun erupted from ahead, punctuated by the distinctive whine of geth plasma rifle. The whump of grenades ahead, hinted at the ferocity of the fight.

"Correction. Hard Contact." Ozone's strained voice came over the squad's internal comm. network.

Werner dashed to the head of the squad, as Ozone's Typhoon roared again. Nearing the source of the fighting, he dropped to a crouch and sighted down his rifle.

Ozone and his partner; Rook had engaged a group of geth troopers. One geth lay in front of the heavy gunner, its torso ripped apart by the hail of slugs the machine gun had spat out. Another pair lay to side, a grenade blast having twisted their corpses into obscene patterns.

"Archer!" Werner barked over the squad's comms. Risking a glance to his rear, he saw his marksman already clambering up the ruins of one industrial shed. Seconds later the distinctive cracks of Archer's rifle, echoed through the complex as its powerful crashed through the geth's kinetic barriers.

Around Werner, Team Wolfpack moved up to engage the geth. Like clockwork, individual elements moved to flank the synthetic automations, the lethal crossfire tearing the geth apart. Comprising of merely half a platoon's worth of troopers, the geth were quickly overwhelmed and annihilated.

As the carnage gave way to silence, Werner sighed reluctantly to himself. The jig was up. Within minutes the entire geth consensus would be alerted to their presence and Wolfpack would have to contend with an entire army of enraged war-machines.

It was going to be one of those days.

* * *

_**Storage chamber**_

_**Planet X91  
Nemean Abyss**_

The human mind is not equipped to deal with the darkness favourably. Centuries and generations of humans have learned to fear the dark, their legends and myths populating the night with monsters, ghouls and predators. Perhaps in the past this may have served a purpose, forcing early homo-sapiens to construct fire and weapons to fight the denizens of the night.

Yet this come at a price. In the darkness, Mobius' mind went into overdrive. _Why did the geth keep him here? What did they want these people? Why were they here on this chunk of rock?_

In the darkness his other senses rose to compensate. His hearing picked up the steady thump of power tools and excavators. The geth were digging through the rock, mindlessly carving into one of the nearby cavern walls. For days they had steadily carved into the rock, searching for something. Without rest, without reprieve the machines continued on their task.

That is not to say that the geth were not distracted. Every day, one of the machines would march into the darkened room and hurl ration packs at the humans. They kept the humans alive, for what reason Mobius had not idea.

Then the thump of power tools stopped and silence enveloped the mines. Then Mobius became truly afraid.

* * *

_**Codex Entry : Tranhumanism**_

_**Perhaps no other race in Council race has been so eager to embrace the benefits and risks of genetic engineering as humanity. Beginning even before humanity set foot on the Prothean ruins on Mars, genetic engineering has enjoyed long, controversial history. . **_

_**In the aftermath of the First Contact War, the Systems Alliance Navy used its newfound prestige to lobby Earth governments to ratify the Sudham-Wolcott Genetic Heritage act passed by the Systems Alliance Parliament. Ostensibly created to protect Earth's and humanity's biodiversity, it also ensured the Navy would be the first to sample the genetic engineering projects of firms such as Binary Helix and Novarcorp Sciences. **_

_**Almost every Systems Alliance military recruit, upon graduation of basic training undergoes of tightly scheduled genetic enhancement program. With therapies designed to enhance muscle mass, enhance adrenalin production and increase oxygen capacity, the average human solider boast superior physical characteristics to soldiers merely a century ago. However most will have to wait at least seven years before experiencing the benefits of such projects. **_

_**The aftermath of the Battle of the Citadel, saw an explosion and diversification of military genetic engineering projects undertaken by firms such as Sirta Foundation (ironically Sirta refuses to produce offensive military equipment), as the Alliance Navy eagerly patronized projects that might aid them with their new responsibilities. **_

_**The result is a new paradigm that blurs the line between human, machine and monster. Elite commandoes boast ocular synaptic processors that combine "enhanced" adrenaline with synthesized endorphins to create warriors whom wreak carnage in a matter of seconds. New, highly specialized biotic implants allow their owners to transform into biotic freight trains or unleash a dark-energy storm. **_

_**Even the highly militarized Turians have yet to consider such projects, their strictly regimented society considering such attempts to be aberrations of nature. **_


	9. Operation Hammer - Part 4

_Jun 9, 2013: You've probably noticed that the chapters have changed a bit. What I've done is some editing to match canon, added codex entries at the end of each chapter and added some new scenes (In fact I've actually uploaded two new chapters, instead of one)._

_Feel free to check them. Back to our regular programming. Thanks for the all the reviews!_

* * *

_We cheat Death from his rightful victory. No one can defeat us. We are glad to plunge feet first into Annwn (Hell) in the knowledge that we will rise._

_- Light of Aidan, Lament - _

"_The Geth represent a force that until now existed only in theory. Powerful battlefield processing capabilities, nigh-instant reaction time and a unified consensus that constantly updates itself with new information…it's a miracle that the quarians even got off Rannoch."_

_Praetor Drehix Threasus of the Turian 17th Legion, 1900 Council Era – _

**_15 months and three days after the destruction of the SR1 Normandy_**

**_Dropship Hangar_**

**_SSV Shanghai_**

The dropship hangar of the _SSV Shanghai_ was a hive of frenzied activity as the marines prepared their combat gear. Technicians flitted through the crowd; assisting with armour checks and making last minute adjustments while troopers inspected "jump-packs" and calibrated firearms.

Operations Chief Ashley Williams carefully inspected her equipment. Armour Integrity? _Check_. Ballistic suit integrity? _Check_. Jump-pack? _Check. _

Clad in what was effectively a skin-tight, ballistic cloth, Ashley began to methodically attach the ceramic-armour plates that made up her hardsuit onto her ballistic suit. Gription panels on the plates activated and then sealed themselves to the cloth, binding them both together in an unbreakable bond.

The kinetic barrier emitters, built into the plates, whirred and clicked as they synchronized with each other. Rated to withstand a small barrage, these shields were literally the difference between life and death in a warzone.

Mentally crossing that off her checklist she moved onto her heavily customized X8g-Avenger rifle. Her pride and joy, the rifle was an extension and reflection of her will. Some gave their weapons affectionate nicknames but Ashley couldn't imagine giving her rifle a name, anymore than naming her limbs. The rifle was part and parcel of who she was and naming it would be mere gravy.

Modifying her rifle to fire disruptor rounds, she nodded to herself as the rifle's internal systems whirred and clicked into position. _Excellent. __Designed to sap shields_, overheat weapons and wreak havoc on the target's nervous systems, the electrically charged rounds were excellent for killing geth. And she intended to kill a lot of geth.

Ashley was a passionate person, no one could deny that. She loved, hated and feared with a fury that would put stars to shame. And she _hated_ the geth with a fury that would put a krogan to shame. A part of her knew that holding onto such emotion was probably unhealthy for her mental well-being, but she couldn't forgive nor forget what the geth had done. They had massacred her comrades on Eden Prime. They had tried to kill her on a hundred different worlds, as the _Normandy_ hunted Saren down. They had come bloody close on Virmire.

She knew that the geth, per say, were not directly responsible for what had happened. She was no fool not to believe that the geth were mere puppets for the Reapers. She knew the warship that destroyed the _Normandy_ and killed Shepard was _not_ a geth cruiser. Yet she was a grunt, a ground-pounder, a fighter whom eschewed the grace and subtlety of starship battles for the brutality and savagery of 22nd century marine warfare. So if she could help defeat the Reapers by killing the geth, she intended to help as much as possible.

An M-6 Carnifex pistol, one of the few possessions that were actually her private property, slipped into her holster ready to unfurl itself into action when the time came.

Finally Ashley hefted the bandolier that held her trademark "Inferno" grenades; a near violation of the Citadel Warfare Conventions. Ostensibly designed to clear vegetation around landing zones, Alliance marines had found that its unique and volatile combination of plasma, white phosphorus, Triethylaluminium and a touch of "dirty eezo" was one of the few things capable of taking down a krogan.

Capable of being fired out her rifle's barrel or lobbed by hand Ashley had grown to love the deadly little spheres and had more than earned the affectionate nickname; "fire-queen". Reverently she strapped the bandolier around her, careful to ensure that its quick release clasp was within reach. The last thing she wanted was to be set ablaze by her own ordinance.

She didn't know whether a few krogan mercenaries still fought side-by-side with the geth. After the tussle on Therum with a damned powerful krogan-biotic-warlord (three words which should never share the same sentence), she adopted a healthy paranoia of the infantry man's "Murphy Law"; If you don't expect a krogan to show up, they will show up.

Reaching into the "ammo" bin, she began slotting thermal clips into her pouches that lined her armour and her belt. Supposedly designed to allow soldiers to maintain a stream of fire, thermal clips allowed organic soldiers to quickly recover after the weapon was remotely sabotaged. A quick pop of the thermal clip and the weapon was as good as new.

Catching Corporal Behari's eye, she gave a reassuring nod. The marines and pathfinders of the _SSV Shanghai_ had trained hard and well for these scenarios. Hit the flashlights hard, hit them fast and hit them well.

_BZZT!__ "Attention. Attention. All ground teams report to your dropships. Repeat. All ground teams report to your dropships."_The monotone, synthesized voice of the ship's VI warbled over the loudspeakers.

It was time.

* * *

**_SSV Shasta_**

**_Task Force 121_**

**_Nemean Abyss_**

Task Force 121 warped into the Nemean Abyss, the dreadnaught _SSV Shasta_ at the head of the formation. Almost immediately the combined human and turian fleet's vessels began to form up into battlegroups. Cruisers moved into battle lines, ready to strike down their foes in a coordinated barrage while frigates wolfpacks ranged far and wide seeking out prey to attack and devour.

The carrier _SSV Benjamin Davis_ vomited out hordes of fighters, interceptors, bombers and gunships. Squadrons of interceptors swarmed protectively around the formation, whilst bombers with their protective escorts of fighters moved to strike positions.

Fleet Admiral Smith, on the bridge the _SSV Shasta_, studied her sensor screens and nodded appreciatively. The first minutes of any fleet deployment were often the most critical. Entire campaigns have been decided by the mistakes, successes and near-disasters that occurred when a large mass of vessels warped and deployed into a system.

Comprised of six cruisers, twenty-four frigates, one dreadnaught and one carrier, Task Force 121's goal was not to occupy this unnamed system in the Nemean Abyss permanently. No, its goal was to secure the airspace around X91, deploy their ground forces, secure human prisoners and ultimately destroy the geth fortress. At least that's what its official objective.

Admiral's Smith's true objective was to secure an intelligence asset, codenamed "Mobius". By some fluke of the fate the agent, whom had acquired considerable intelligence on Cerberus operations with regards to the geth, had been discovered by the _Ain Jalut_ to be held on the planet. And she would bet her bottom dollar that they would have held the agent in the formidable geth fortress that lay in the middle of a derelict industrial complex.

She knew she have been suspicious of the circumstances, but the reality she was as eager as Hackett was to gain an edge on the mysterious organization.

"XO," She curtly ordered "Contact the _Ain Jalut_ and get me an immediate sitrep, ASAP."

"Yes, Admiral." Dutifully, the admiral's executive officer opened an encrypted line with the stealth frigate, the _SSV Ain Jalut_. Whilst nominally assigned to Alliance Naval Intelligence, the crew of the _Ain Jalut_ knew it was better to tolerate her assumption of her supremacy over them, rather than risk her wrath.

A frown crossed Smith's lips, as the _Ain Jalut_ fired an encrypted burst of data that was immediately decrypted and displayed on the holographic projected in the CIC. _Contact Lost with Wolfpack, Status unknown. Sizeable geth presence located in industrial complex. _

"Tell General Carter to deploy his marine forces." She added, as her frigate hunter-packs reported no enemy contacts. "And tell our turian 'friends' to do the same."

"Of course Admiral."

Working with the turian elements of the task force had gone relatively well. Donating three cruisers and their respective escorts of frigates to the strike-force, the turians were eager to strike back at the geth in a bid to recover some of their lost honour. Having the Citadel Defence Fleet decimated under their watch, stung turian society as a whole and a chance to avenge their comrades was only too attractive to pass up. So eager were they that they acquiesced to having her command the task force.

The space around of X91 was mercifully empty, as the task force's vessels began to disgorge their ground complements. Hordes of dropships, escorted by A61 Mantis Gunships, plunged into the thin atmosphere of the planet as their thrusters burned to keep craft moving hard and fast.

And so began the opening stages of the Operation Hammer.

* * *

**_Atmosphere_**

**_Team Neptune_**

**_Planet X91_**

**_Team Neptune_**

Separating itself from the squadrons of dispersed dropships and their escorts, a lone, heavily modified A-61 Mantis Gunship flew perpendicular to task force's movements. It had its own objectives to accomplish.

Equipped with sophisticated VIs and the latest in military technology, this gunship represented the pinnacle of Alliance engineering. Sensor absorbent plates coated the gunship and it's built in weapon bays ensured its stealth status. Covered from head-to-toe in camouflage paint, it even forwent the traditional nose-art that most human vessels sported. It was designed for one thing and one thing only; deliver and support its payload covertly.

Deployed from the _SSV Shasta_ herself, this modified gunship bore the elite Team Neptune. Made up of elite, heavily armed operators; graduates of the InterCombatives Academy from Earth, they had one mission in mind: Rendezvous with Team Wolfpack and support their operations.

Safely encased in the armoured passenger compartment, the commandoes of Team Neptune calmly checked their equipment. A few nonchalantly observed the visual footage of the gunship's path. They were confident, relaxed and ready. Their goal was relatively simple: Get in, assist Wolfpack, secure the package and then get back to the _Shasta_ for some coffee, cake and hero worship.

The pilot of this particular gunship bore the callsign; "Mowgli". An elite graduate from the Systems Alliance Naval Aerospace Warfare academy back located back on Earth, he had flown gunships his entire career so far. Whether it was performing covert insertions onto settled worlds or close air support for Special Forces, he had logged hundred of hours on every model of gunship in the Alliance's arsenal.

However he only had the barest of warnings provided by his HUD howling in alarm, seconds before a plasma projectile slammed into the belly of the Mantis gunship. The modified gunship sacrificing reduced kinetic barrier strength for increased LADAR absorption material consequently allowing the plasma projectile to burn a hole straight through the gut of the vehicle.

Confronted by a sea of flashing lights and wailing klaxons, Mowgli began to punch switches and flick levers, desperately trying to keep the gunship stable and alive. Pumping out chaff and flare, he hoped to ward off any further attacks. Keeping his engines lit, he hoped to retain enough forward velocity to escape the hot-zone. To his credit he never lost his cool, right up until the point when another plasma projectile slammed into the cockpit and vaporized.

Trapped in the hold of the burning gunship, Team Neptune could only helplessly hang on for dear life as the vehicle sickeningly flipped on its horizontal axis. Perhaps it was a mercy when seconds later the onboard, compromised eezo core exploded.

Twirling lifelessly, the burning corpse of the gunship dove straight into an abandoned bunker. With a fiery explosion, it rebounded off the durasteel structure and violently smashed into the ground. After a few metres it finally came to a screeching halt, leaving a deep furrow through the dirt behind it.

The offending geth armature and its escort of troopers silently observed their handiwork. As the fiery wreck blazed, the geth consensus analyzed the new data that began to flood in and adjusted its battle-plan. The organics were coming, that was for certain. They would make them pay in blood.

* * *

**_Atmosphere_**

**_Hunter 2-2_**

**_Planet X91_**

**_Nemean Abyss_**

Ashley plunged through the skies of X91 as the altimeter in her HUD steadily counted down towards impact. Keeping her breathing under control, despite the exhilaration that coursed through her veins, she began to recall memories of dropping out of the _Normandy_ in the Mako.

Once upon a time, she believed that dropping out of the _Normandy_ in a tank onto a planet was the height of adrenaline fuelled-madness. But this was something else entirely. This was something so raw, so blood-pumping exciting, that she pitied the mere mortals whom never experienced such a high.

_An adrenaline addicted krogan trapped in the body of human_. That's how Urdnot Wrex had once described her, after a particularly harrowing firefight against a horde of feral rachni on Altahe. She just enjoyed a challenge, that's all. To dare the galaxy to throw whatever it had at her and to come out on top or die trying. She couldn't imagine any other life.

Craning her neck to the left, she caught the plummeting form of Lieutenant Jeremiah Guo. Flashing a thumbs up her way, the lieutenant matched her speed as the platoon formed up around them. Passing through the planet's thin stratosphere, the air around them began to heat up as their speed accelerated, their kinetic barriers the only thing that saved them from instant incineration.

Her altimeter began to ping, warning her that she was rapidly passing the point of no return. Slapping her omni-tool, she activated her jump-pack's eezo core and miniature thrusters, reducing both her relative mass and her speed. Around her the pathfinders of Second Platoon mirrored her actions and soon the entire platoon powered towards the objective, thrusters firing intermittently for to keep them on course.

It was night on this corner of the planet; the only source of natural illumination came from the stars that lit up the sky. Bereft of any artificial illumination, all she had to do was crane her neck and she could see the constellations of nearby systems, of planets so far away that yet seemed so close.

Then almost immediately the ground began accelerate towards her. Firing her thrusters, she was able to slow down her approach such that she managed a relatively smooth landing onto the dusty plateau. Slapping the release mechanism, she detached the jump-pack as she brought her rifle up to bear and scan her surroundings.

Silence. Her bleak surroundings stared back at her and in the distance Ashley could make out the outlines of their objective: a derelict shipyard. Around her, she spied the enormous canyons that ran across this planet and a few errant pieces of vegetation.

Slapping her omni-tool, Ashley booted up her hardsuit's sensor systems, her "radar" synchronizing itself with the network of encrypted VIs, drones and her comrade's sensors. Almost instantly a miniature map with a bevy of green dots that highlighted her fellow pathfinders swirled into existence at the corner of her HUD. The proverbial eye in backside, that miniature map had probably saved more lives than any other battlefield invention.

"Williams, our status?" Lieutenant Guo hissed over the platoon's comms.

Ashley quickly performed a head-count on her fellow pathfinder-marines and checked the platoon's status on her HUD. _All Green._

"All good, Eltee." She crisply replied "Hunter 2 is ready for action."

"Move out!" Lt. Guo ordered and within seconds Hunter 2 advanced to secure the landing zone for Task Force 121.

* * *

**_Industrial Complex_**

**_Planet X91_**

**_Nemean Abyss_**

Team Wolfpack was on the verge of being discovered, deep within the confines of this former industrial complex. The geth troopers snarled as they hunted the human commandoes through the ruined complex. Ever since the first engagement, the past few hours had been marked by frantic gunfights as the team struggled to reach Checkpoint Charlie.

Checkpoint Charlie was an imposing structure that loomed over the complex. In a past life it may have been a mechanized, heavy lift crane used to lift starship-engines into place, but now it beckoned towards them as a place of refuge. Its commanding height would allow them a generous field of view over their surroundings and could serve as a potential landing zone for any extraction craft.

But now the team hid themselves as a nearby platoon of geth passed over them. Hiding in what was an ancient sewer, the team held their breath as the synthetic automations stomped above them.

The last engagement had been particularly brutal. A geth platoon had stumbled upon the commandoes and a frantic firefight had broken out. Outnumbered and outgunned, Werner was barely able to extract his forces without taking casualties. Save for two.

Rook, a rifleman and Jester, their biotic had been caught by a pair of geth hunters, as they tried to retreat after the biotic released a dark energy storm. Ambushing the pair at close range, the geth hunters had sent a storm of plasma projectiles straight into both the commandoes. At close range the operators' shields were useless to stop the projectiles.

Rook had been killed instantly, the plasma-encased shots tearing through his armour and into his chest. Jester would have joined him, if Werner hadn't flipped his rifle to automatic and hosed the pair of geth with a storm of slugs from his position.

Now Jester lay nearby semi-conscious and half-drugged on medication. They had been able to staunch most of the bleeding and dull the pain with heavy doses of medi-gel and painkillers, but Jester needed proper medical attention and fast. And with the hordes of geth swarming the complex and standing between them and Checkpoint Charlie, Werner wasn't sure he could get Jester out in time.

This mission was fast becoming a failure. They were barely able to mark out two targets for airstrikes, they were hounded by the geth whom were intent on their death and worse they still had no link to the _Ain Jalut_, thanks to whatever jamming device the geth had setup.

"We're clear." Archer, the team's marksman, hissed over the team's short range comms. Bravely volunteering for the task, the marksman remained topside, roosting amongst the ancient chimneys and smokestacks, whilst the team hid themselves in the ancient sewer upon hearing the approach of the geth.

"Move out." Staff Lieutenant Jacob 'Boss' Werner ordered, his voice neither betraying the strain or the stress of the past hours.

Like ghosts, Team Wolfpack rose from the ancient sewer and silently pushed towards their objective. Ozone, the team's gunner, stayed at their rear, his heavy machine-gun sweeping to cover their rear.

Werner grunted, as he slung the semi-conscious form of Jester onto his shoulders. A frown crossed his face as the wounded commando moaned and then fell silent. They needed to reach Checkpoint Charlie fast.

* * *

**_Landing Zone Bravo_**

**_Planet X91_**

**_Nemean Abyss_**

**_30 minutes after drop_**

Ashley carefully inspected the "landing strip" that would serve the task force's armoured vehicles. Having been cleared of any vegetation, rocks or debris, it now resembled a smooth runway, albeit carved in dirt.

"All good on this end, Eltee." Ashley crisply reported over the platoon's communication network.

"Copy that, Chief." Lt. Guo curtly ordered "Activate the beacons."

Within seconds the pair of carefully arranged beacons activated; sending a pulse of heavily encrypted coordinates to the orbiting fleet. Designed to communicate and coordinate with the fleet's VIs, these beacons allowed the warships to discharge their armoured company's quickly and safely.

After spending so much time onboard a falling Mako, Ashley wondered how it must seem to an outsider. A tank falling from high orbit at terminal velocity, only to fire its rockets seconds before impact and land safely, must have seemed a shocking image to those uninitiated to 22nd century warfare. Sometime she wondered who thought up that particular idea. Probably the same maverick that proposed sending marines plummeting through the atmosphere, depending on a tiny eezo core to prevent being smeared across the landscape and their shields to save them from being incinerated.

"Chief, we got movement on the southern perimeter." The reedy tones of Hunter 2-5's squad leader interrupted her reverie.

"How close?" Ashley snapped her hand to the side of her helmet. A nervous tic more than anything else, the headset just worked fine either way.

"Ten kilometres and moving fast. Platoon sized force…hang on switching to thermal, standby." The squad leader responded.

Seconds ticked slowly by and Ashley began to chew the corner of her lip nervously. If this landing zone got compromised, it meant they would be fighting without armoured support.

"Geth force confirmed. At least five rocket wielding troopers."

"Corporal Mathews." Lt. Guo's stern voice flooded the comm. network "Engage those hostiles with prejudice. Prioritize the rocket troopers."

"Yes, sir."

The distinctive cracks of the marksmen's M-99 Sabers echoed through the landscape. Ashley bit her lip in irritation. She would have preferred to have lured the geth into a trap, or at least have one of the gunships nail the platoon with a missile. Firing now only revealed their dug in positions to the geth.

"Hunter 2 actual," the bass accent of the Mako commander cut into the platoon's comm. link. Sharing the channel with Lt. Guo, Ashley listened in as the Mako commander verified the coordinates "This is Panther actual, confirm these coordinates? Over."

A series of numbers and letters flashed over her HUD. Representing geographical coordinates, air pressure and atmospheric density, these series of numbers and letters were the difference between a successful Mako deployment or a horrifying, fiery wreck. _Thankfully these coordinates were good. _

"Coordinates are good, Panther Actual, begin your drop when you're ready. Over" Lt. Guo replied, confirming the drop coordinates.

"Roger that, Hunter 2 actual. Keep it warm for us. Over and Out." The confident Mako commander replied.

In her mind's eye, Ashley visualized the orbiting cruisers open their docking bays. She imagined the squadrons of heavy Mako AFVs being guided and then launched out of the cruisers and into the planet's atmosphere.

From her time on the _Normandy's _Mako, she could recall nearly every sensation of a Mako drop. The monetary sensation of weightlessness, as your stomach floats for a second in zero-g and then sudden force as vindictive gravity latches onto you and the send the Mako plummeted through the atmosphere.

"Hunter 2, this is Panther 1-1." A new voice contacted them, this time being Panther 1's commanding officer, "Our approach vector is locked in and we are on track, ETA: 120 seconds."

"Roger that Panther 1-1." Lieutenant Guo replied "LZ is still secure; I repeat LZ is still secure."

Ashley nodded, until her eyes picked out something. She couldn't put her finger on it, but she could have sworn she saw the air shimmer a few feet in front of her. Bringing her rifle up to bear, she aimed down her sights at the distortion in the air. The only warning she got, was a blinding flash as a powerful headlight activated. Hurling herself to the side, she barely dodged a trio of plasma projectiles that skimmed over her shoulder.

Towering over her, her attacker was a geth that was nearly twelve feet high. Bearing a passing resemblance to the geth prime, it wielded an enormous shotgun that even a krogan would hesitate to wield. The air around the geth rippled with residue eezo discharge, as its cloaking generators struggled to compensate for the synthetic's shotgun blast.

"Contact!" She heard herself scream, as the geth aimed down its sights once more. A veritable store of fire battered against the geth's shields, as the marines around her laid down suppressive fire. Knocking the enormous unit backwards, the marines bought Ashley precious seconds.

Scrambling backwards, she managed to put some distance between herself and her attacker. Lunging to her feet, she aimed down her sights and held down the trigger, adding to the volume of fire that slammed into the geth, even as more of the cloaked machines revealed themselves.

From the corner of her vision, she saw another towering geth launch a powerful kick that slammed into a fellow marine's midsection. Hurling the soldier backwards, the impossibly strong impact alone shattered his chest-plate, as her HUD dispassionately labelled the marine; "Ineffective".

It had been a bloody ruse. The geth had launched a diversionary attack, keeping the platoon's marksmen busy while sneaking their cloaked units closer. Engaging at ranges too close to call in heavy air support, the geth were engaging on their terms and were threatening to overrun the landing zone.

"Hit their legs!" Ashley called out, as she ducked away from another shotgun blast. With their towering stature, the cloaked geth could easily crush them, but that came at a disadvantage. Dependant on their legs to support their mass and their high centre of gravity, the only hope the marines had was to sever their synthetic tendons.

Perhaps in response to her desperate order, the marines beside her shifted their fire, scything cutting into the giant geth's shields and synthetic musculature. With a distorted howl, the towering synthetic in front of her crashed to the ground, thrashing violently as it tried to pull its shotgun from underneath it.

Without wasting a moment, another marine beside her hopped onto the top of the geth's prone form, aimed down his rifle and then emptied his thermal clip into the downed synthetic's neck. Its electric screams faded into oblivion as the rounds cut through its shields at close range and tore apart its vulnerable circuitry.

"Williams, get down!" Someone roared.

Reacting instantly Ashley performed a controlled demolition on her knees and as she hit the dirt a powerful synthetic forearm swung through where her head was a second earlier. Flipping onto her back, she was greeted by the de-cloaking form of another geth. Even as it aimed down her sights, Ashley was already fumbling for her weapon even as a part of her knew this was the end.

Until the thunderous smash of a rapidly decelerating M35 Mako hitting the ground echoed across the plateau. The force of the impact sent the geth in front of her stumbling backwards and Ashley could hear distinctive whine of a Mark V Rheinmetall 155mm Mass Accelerator Canon, as it motors swung the turret around to bear on the geth.

A grin crossed Ashley's lips, as the first rounds from the heavy canon crashed into and then hurled the massive geth backwards, like it was a ragdoll. If this were an action flick, she would have had some pithy catchphrase ready, but really she was just too happy to be alive.

"Hunter 2 actual, this is Panther 1-1" The noticeably smug tone of the Mako's commander drawled into her headset "Thanks for keeping the place warm. Designate targets and we'll fire when ready."

* * *

**_CIC_**

**_SSV Ain Jalut_**

**_Nemean Abyss_**

Captain Sasha Makarov silently watched Task Force 121 deploy and secure this portion of the Nemean Abyss. Even as she quietly admired the efficiency of the task force's captains, a corner of her mind worried about Team Wolfpack.

They had lost contact with Wolfpack after their last transmission. Her sensors picked up the presence of a weak geth jamming network. Yet the supposedly weak network boasted some serious encryption that hinted at something else.

She briefly considered taking the _Ain Jalut _into X91's atmosphere, before she cast that thought aside. The _Ain Jalut_ was a stealth frigate, not a brawling warship. Right now the best way she could help Wolfpack was to serve and act as the task force's eyes and ears.

"Lieutenant." She curtly ordered her chief pilot "Get us to the system's edge."

For the past days and hours, she had stealthily scanned the entire system from head to toe, looking for any active eezo emissions of any kind. Moving to the edge of the system only made sense. After all if the geth fleet wasn't found within the system, odds were that they were waiting outside the system, acting as a reserve force.

Unfortunately it was the wrong move. One small move in a series of manoeuvres that could spell the end of Task Force 121.

* * *

**_Landing Zone Bravo_**

**_Planet X91_**

**_Nemean Abyss_**

**_120 minutes after drop_**

Ashley nodded to herself as another armoured vehicle thudded onto the landing zone. After a brutal firefight, Hunter 2 with the support of Panther's armoured vehicles was able to push back and secure the landing zone. Now Hunter 2-1 and herself were manning the prefabricated fortifications that had been quickly erected by the task force's combat engineers.

Hunter 2 had taken two casualties. Private Henderson had been killed when one of the cursed geth units had beheaded her at close range with a blast from its shotgun. Private Chong had been severely wounded when another geth had launched a powerful kick straight into his midsection. Already Chong was on his way to the orbiting fleet, no doubt to the relative safety of one of their fleet's medical bays. Were it not for Panther company's Makos, the casualties would have much higher.

Behind her, dropships loaded down with hungry marines and grim faced turian soldiers swarmed onto the landing zone, depositing their troops and taking off quickly. A pair of M-42 Bulldog self-propelled artillery vehicles rumbled off towards a nearby ridge, as they positioned themselves to provide support for forward forces.

The forward ground units of the task force were securing the canyons and ridges that made up this side of the planet. Already they had run into geth outposts which boasted turrets and heavy units. Geth armature units fought against the task force's tanks, as gunships howled overhead unleashing their missiles with considerable glee.

Ashley glanced enviously as a combined platoon of M35 Makos and _Triarii-class_ turian tanks advanced towards the frontlines. No doubt, somewhere out there Hunter 1 was calling in airstrikes, to Lt. Guo's considerable consternation. A flight of A61 Mantis gunships howled overhead and in the distance she could hear the boom of canon fire and the ensuring explosions.

Rumour had it that the _Shasta_ had deployed a spec-ops team into the complex itself and already some whispered that some of the task force was going to be deployed into the heart of the fortress itself.

But first they had to sever the geth's eyes and ears outside the fortress and that was the momentary goal of the task force's ground forces.

"This is Actual, to all Hunter 2 squads." The clipped voice of Lt. Guo interrupted her momentary reverie, "All squad leaders rendezvous at the southern landing pads and prep for redeployment."

Ashley merely shrugged as the Corporal Behari glanced at her in curiosity. As the marines prepared to vacate their positions, a turian phalanx hurried up to relieve the humans.

Ashley caught the attention of the commanding officer of the turian phalanx. Waving him over Ashley began to detail everything that she though could be useful for the turians.

"This side of the perimeter is pretty much secured and that ridge over there would be a great place for you to deploy your marksmen." She explained to the turian officer, a grim-faced example of his species. A pair of simple green tattoos framed his cheeks and he quietly nodded in understanding, as he held the helmet at his side.

There were times she envied the turians. A race of soldiers and generals, sometimes she wondered whether they practiced the level of discrimination against individuals that the Alliance admiralty had displayed during the early stages of her career.

"I see. Good job hu…" The turian caught himself before he finished that statement. No doubt his superiors had warned that humans preferred to be referred to by their names versus their species.

Ashley merely raised her eyebrows as the turian struggled to understand the rank markings on her armour or the lack off. The Systems Alliance's battle armour didn't display any obvious signs of rank or status; a sharp lesson learned from the snipers of earth's 21st century wars.

"Chief." Ashley finally explained, "Operations Chief Williams."

She didn't know whether the turians assigned the same level of notoriety to the Williams name as humanity did and truth be told she didn't very much care at that point. She had a new objective to accomplish and accomplish it she would.

She began to jog over to the distinct form Lt. Guo whom was waiting beside a flight of rumbling dropships. As she crossed the tarmac, she mentally counted the pathfinder-marines of Hunter 2. _All present and accounted for_.

"Sir?" She asked, catching the tensed eyebrows hidden behind the standard issue combat helmet.

"Command's ordering us to redeploy." Lt. Guo explained. "We're to assist with extracting a Team Wolfpack from northern edge of the complex."

"Wolfpack, sir?" Ashley struggled to remember whether any of the marine units sported that call-sign.

"Spec-ops, chief. Handling matters way above yours and my pay grade." Lt. Guo snorted "Apparently the team they sent after them went missing so they're sending us instead."

Ashley pondered the new objectives. They were pathfinders and more importantly they were marines. They had been trained to deal with the changing conditions on the battlefield and thrive. Yet Ashley shivered at the prospect of dealing with the geth _inside _the confines of the complex.

"What's our support like?" She asked, as Lt. Guo waved the rest of the platoon onto the awaiting dropships.

"Minimal." He replied "Command has promised us some air support from Viper squadron, but they also said to expect some jamming signals from the geth. Not enough to hamper our close-range communicators, but we won't be calling up the fleet for directions anytime soon."

Limited support, hampered communications and a dense complex no doubt filled with hungry geth. It was like Therum all over again, save the oppressive heat and the bloodthirst krogans. Though knowing her luck, the latter was likely to show up.

"Turians will be securing the landing zone?" She queried, with a practiced air of indifferent curiosity, as she struggled to stifle the brief wave of nervous jitters that began in her stomach. She didn't fear the geth, she reminded herself. She just hated their uncanny ability to use nearly every nook and cranny to ambush organics.

"43rd turian marine division." Lt. Guo answered "They're good and they have experience with our tactics"

_Before or after Shanxi?_ Ashley nearly asked, but she wisely held her tongue. It was a new galaxy and no one liked to be reminded of the First Contact War. Especially with the new state of political affairs.

"Understood, sir." Ashley replied, before nodding respectively. _They'd better hold our damned LZ. _

* * *

**_Checkpoint Charlie_**

**_Industrial Complex_**

**_Planet X91_**

**_Nemean Abyss_**

"Get down!"

Lt. Werner threw himself to the ground, as the geth wielding the heavy pulse canon exploded, showering pieces of flaming shrapnel everywhere. He snarled, as he slapped the burning embers away from him and then ducked once more as a grenade detonated nearby.

Team Wolfpack had finally made it to Checkpoint Charlie. Within minutes of their fortifying it, the geth had hurled themselves at the commandoes. Geth troopers wielding flamethrowers and plasma rifles viciously attacked the commandoes, willing to sacrifice themselves in order to dig out and murder the entrenched commandoes.

Skipping past a hail of fire, Werner threw himself into a makeshift foxhole. Nodding at its occupants, Werner took a few moments to check himself for wounds

"_No holes"_ he thought to himself, as he ran his hands over his battered armour. "_That's got to be something"_

Glancing enviously at Ozone's terminator battle-armour, he promised himself that the moment he got back he would requisition at least one of the heavy armour hardsuits. Scratch that, he would order enough of the armoured suits for the entire squad, stealth be damned!

"Status?" he rasped as Ozone's team-mate, Michelson, rose up to lay down a hail of suppressive fire. Meanwhile Ozone nonchalantly popped out an overheated thermal clip from his weapon before catching it mid-air. Deftly and with surprising grace, he dropped the white-hot clip into his nearby canteen. In the confines of the foxhole, Werner heard the hiss the thermal clip emitted when it came into contact with the contacts of the water bottle. At least he hoped it was water, though at this point he probably shouldn't have cared.

"A fuck-ton of geth swarming this side. No contact with support. Thermal clips are holding for now…and I need to pee." was Ozone's deadpan response. Rising to his feet, as he chambered new clip, the heavy-gunner shrugged off a stray round before his Typhoon machine gun roared once more.

"A fuck-ton?" Werner replied, when Ozone's pat returned to the safety of the foxhole, as a hail of fire scythed above.

"About four platoons, Boss." Michelson replied this time "One geth too many."

"Ah…" Werner absorbed the new information.

He didn't understand the geth's assault. Checkpoint Charlie was made up sharp, steep hill that lead towards the base of an enormous cargo lift. Dotted around the hill, were a series of enormous boulders and steel crates which offered a modicum of cover. Combined with the soft-earth that made it easy to build makeshift foxholes, Checkpoint Charlie was a veritable fortress.

Somewhere amongst the machinery and crates Archer roosted above them, picking off geth troopers whom were foolish enough to poke their heads out. Werner was certain that Archer was at the moment duelling geth snipers, a battle that could take hours.

Yet that didn't stop the geth from were hurling themselves at Team Wolfpack with a vengeance. For _what_ reason, Werner had yet to discern. Scrambling on top of ancient buildings or climbing up the sides of derelict towers nearby, the geth sent a withering barrage of plasma fire over the dug-in commandoes.

He couldn't help but notice a certain oddity to their actions, as if the geth were pantomiming an assault. Like a director willing to sacrifice their actors in order to sell the role, the geth were wasting a few of their units to keep Team Wolfpack pinned down.

"_Ehh…"_ he though to himself, as a rocket exploded overhead, showering them with shrapnel that their shields fended away _"I always over think these things."__ They had to hold out, that's all they needed to do right now. He was certain that the task force had arrived and no doubt more commandoes were on their way to aid them. Then it would be straight push to the geth fortress. _

"Keep them suppressed." He ordered the pair of gunners, before adding a final word of incentive. "Also Archer says he's got more kills than you two. Says when this is over, drinks are on you."

"Bah…" Ozone snarled, as he fired a spread of multi-frag grenades from his omni-tool that arced over a nearby stone wall and then detonated, "Tell that pretty boy when this is over, I'll carve more kills onto my armour than he ever will in his lifetime."

Werner did always pride himself on keeping his team motivated.

* * *

**_Chalk 2_**

**_North of Industrial Complex_**

**_Planet X91_**

**_Nemean Abyss_**

This time the transports flew low and fast, barely ten metres above the ground. Aided by sophisticated VI's and powerful LADAR systems, the dropship pilots of Chalk 2, guided their steeds over the baked soil of X91.

"Alright here is the score!" The loadmaster shouted over the turbulence, as he addressed the pathfinders in the confines of the passenger compartment. Flying low may have protected them from anti-aircraft fire, but it made the ride bumpy as hell, "We'll drop your platoon one kilometre out from the complex, northern side."

The northern side of the complex was marked by a series of jagged hills and derelict machinery. Perhaps in a previous life it had been the staging ground for whatever civilization owned this rock, but now it was lifeless.

Their pilots were understandably nervous about geth AA. The fight to retake the Citadel in the wake of Saren's attack had seen geth troopers blasting whatever was in the air with their fiendishly accurate rocket launchers. Consequently it had taken weeks to find and root out the geth stragglers on the Citadel and no one was eager to repeat that experience.

"I want your boots out of _my_ hold, in twenty seconds!" Ashley winced as the loadmaster continued to shout, even over the short-range helmet to helmet radio.

"Anyone left behind stays with us. I'll be sure to find some _use_ for them." The loadmaster cackled at that last comment, adding a positively sinister note to the entire briefing. Loadmasters were said to be a sadistic lot and no marine worth their salt would want to be left alone in the presence of those freaks.

"ETA to LZ, thirty seconds." The pilot's voice crackled over the shuttle's intercom.

"You heard the man, marines!" Ashley barked "Time to roll out!"

She could feel the impact, as the dropship slid to a complete stop, run all the way up to her teeth. The Kodiak's bay door swung up and out and the marines of Hunter 2-2 surged out of the doors. As she jumped out onto the flats of X91, she could see the sun rise up on the horizon and hear the drone of the overhead escorting gunships.

The last one out of the gunship, she caught the high pitched tones of the Kodiak's afterburners as the pilot jetted away from the flats and back to the safety offered by the guns of the overhead warships. Within seconds the entirety of Hunter 2 had been disgorged and grabbed whatever shelter they could find.

"Hunter 2 actual, this is Viper 1" The tense voice of the gunship's pilot hissed into her ear "You're clear all the way into the complex, but be advised we'll need targeting information in order to provide you air support."

"Roger that Sparrow 1" Lt. Guo replied "Watch our six."

"Will do, Hunter 2. Good hunting."

* * *

**_Checkpoint Charlie_**

**_Industrial Complex_**

**_Planet X91_**

Jester, the wounded biotic, moaned feverishly, as the fighting intensified around them. Crammed into another makeshift foxhole with the squad's medic, there was barely enough room to move, let alone breathe.

The medic shook his head, as he carefully injected another dose of painkiller. At such close proximity, Werner could practically smell the desperation in the man's sweat.

"Final dose, Boss," the medic finally spoke, as a rocket whizzed above and smashed into an ancient steel crate, "any more and his blood pressure will drop like a krogan in water."

"Anything else you can do, Doc?" Werner asked, reassuringly gripping Jester's hand. A grimace crossed the biotic's face as a stream of plasma fire erupted overhead, only to be cut short by a series of sharp cracks.

"I've done all I can!" The medic snapped back, "I've kept his BP stable, his wounds relatively clean and his pain low! Damn it, I'm a medic! Not a bloody miracle worker!"

Before Werner could respond, his headset crackled with the distorted voice of Archer.

"Heads up Ozone, you got flamers inbound on your position." The marksman reported over the din of the firefight.

_Flamethrower geth._ Evidently the geth had caught onto the very organic phobia of being burnt alive. Even as Werner put on a confident grin for his fellow soldiers, he knew if they survived the next few minutes it would be a miracle.

"Copy that Archer." The pained voice of Ozone came back, before he added "Mike's been hit."

_Shit!_ If Werner remembered correctly, Ozone and Michelson shared the foxhole. Responsible for their southern perimeter, the pair had held the geth back with raw firepower and explosives. But now with the geth flamers advancing on their position, Werner knew he had to pull them back.

"Archer," Werner queried, hiding his unease behind a level tone, "anything you can do about it?"

"Negative, Boss." the marksman replied, a hint of regret in his voice "Am already relocating. Damned geth have eyeballed me and am losing cover fast."

"Ozone, get out of there." Werner crisply ordered the heavy gunner "Now!"

"On it, Boss," Ozone replied back, "Just getting Mike out of here…"

Werner shook his head and he pulled himself out of the foxhole. Almost immediately the geth bracketed him with a hail of fire, sending him ducking back into cover.

Catching his breath, Werner carefully weighed his options. He knew Ozone and he knew him well. The heavy gunner wouldn't leave a comrade behind in the foxhole to be roasted by the geth flamethrowers.

Plucking an EMP grenade from his belt, he took a second to compose himself. If he timed it right, he would send the grenade sailing into the lance of geth troopers that had him pinned down. If he timed it wrong the grenade would fall back onto him and short out his armour's systems.

"Need covering fire on my position." He snapped over Wolfpack's comms. Seconds later a series of cracks broke through the din of battle and he reminded himself to buy Archer a round of drinks when this was all over.

Leaning out, he chucked the EMP grenade towards his attackers. Sailing silently amidst the chaos around it, the grenade bounced off one geth and into the ground. Even as the geth retreated away from the sphere, it pulsed once and then detonated.

A wave of electrical energy swept out from it, overwhelming the geth's vulnerable circuits. Writhing as the errant electrons played over their shields and skin, the geth were helpless as Werner raced towards Ozone's position.

He could see Ozone struggle to pull his wounded partner out of the foxhole whilst balancing the heavy typhoon machine gun. Werner wasted no time in assisting Ozone and together the pair of them hoisted the wounded commando between them and retreated towards the protective embrace of an ancient steel crate.

"Boss, sniper! Get down!" Someone yelled over the comm. network. Before he could react, an ominous boom echoed around them as a powerful slug slashed between Ozone and him, and ripped into Michael's skull.

He didn't hear Archer's return fire or Ozone's howl of rage that send a torrent of slugs to rip into a nearby coning tower and send a geth sniper hurtling towards the ground. He didn't hear electronic chatter of geth troopers as they tried to flank the commandoes. All he could do is stare helplessly at the shattered skull of the former commando lie before him and mentally note the charred hole that had been burnt through armour and flesh.

He would _kill_ them. He would _kill_ every single geth on this planet.

* * *

**_Industrial Complex_**

**_Planet X91_**

**_Nemean Abyss_**

Operations Chief Ashley Williams and the marines of Hunter 2-2 carefully picked their way through the complex. Ancient, gargantuan machinery stared down at them and errant piping snaked its way around them. Every few metres they would find another dead geth, its innards spilt out and leaking white, viscous fluid.

"Damn…Wolfpack is sure making them pay." One of the marines whispered, before a low snarl from Corporal Behari silenced him. The air was thick with tension and you could cut through it with a knife. Ashley's own suit's biometric readings were elevated and she found her eyes darting around, searching for geth.

Out there on the flats of X91 the geth were out in the open, dependant on their cloaking generators to hide their position. In here however, there was at least a hundred different ways for the geth to conceal their positions. Darkened bunkers for geth troopers to hide themselves in, coning towers for their snipers to roost in and the pipes for their damnable hoppers to hang from.

A few feet in front of her, Behari held up a clenched fist. Lowering themselves into a crouch, the marines silently stared around them. Motioning two of the marines forward, he pointed them into covering positions. Finally he motioned Williams forwards.

Moving quickly yet quietly, Williams joined Behari up front. Finally she saw what had set the corporal on edge.

"Crap…so that's what happened to Neptune" One of marines whispered as another shook her head mournfully.

Ashley stared grimly at the charred remains that were Team Neptune. Thirteen men and women, soldiers whom represented the best elite operators that humanity could produce, and all that was left of them were burnt out corpses and equipment.

"Missiles, more than one." Another marine hissed "'Mantis' supposed to be tougher than one missile"

"Where's their jumpacks?" One marine queried, as they peered at the wreckage of the crashed gunship.

"They didn't have any jump-packs." Ashley replied, swallowing the fear that began to well up inside of her "They were probably just meant to extract Team Wolfpack and bug out…Jump-packs would have taken up space…."

The marines simply shook their head, as they tried not to imagine plummeting from the sky and watching the earth rush up to smash against. Perhaps it was a mercy that most of them were incinerated in the explosion.

"Williams." Lt. Guo's voice flooded through Ashley's helmet "Status."

"All KIA Eltee."

"Copy that, move fast." If Guo was affected by the death of the Special Forces commandoes, she wasn't hearing it "Flashlights could be eyeballing the crash site."

"Copy that,"

Ashley glanced at Behari. Nodding his assent, the squad leader motioned the squad to move out. As they skirted the site, Ashley took one last glance behind her. A grinning, charred skull that used to be a fellow marine, glared back at her, mocking her. A cold shiver ran up her spine and she gripped her rifle even tighter. The. Geth. Would. Pay.

"Tag the site on the map and then push on." Williams found herself ordering with a coldness that surprised her, "He's dead, nothing more we can do for them."

"What about their tags?" Behari protested, as he struggled with the prospect of leaving human corpses behind on a geth infested world.

Ashley shook her head silently, as she mimed an exploding mine with her fist. They both knew what the geth were capable off and it wasn't beyond the synthetics to use organic bodies as a booby trap.

Nodding silently at her order, Behari and the rest of the squad pushed one, hoping to link back up with Hunter 2. Hanging back she swept the area behind them, paranoid about being followed by geth.

Instead from the corner of her vision, she saw an errant rodent climb on top of a charred corpse that lay in the shattered remains of the cockpit. She saw it sniff curiously at the corpse's charred skull and then it lunged forward. Its tiny teeth caught on the bridge of the corpse's nose and then it began to gnaw hungrily at the cooked flesh. Ashley had to turn away as bile rose at the back of her throat and she hurriedly left the area.

A pair of geth troopers and an armature and watched her leave and continued to hid silently. Their shared conscious dictated them to hold their position…for now.

* * *

**_CIC_**

**_SSV Shasta_**

**_Nemean Abyss_**

Fleet Admiral Samantha Smith paced impatiently around the holographic tactical display. The bulk of her naval forces were scouring the rest of the system, though the _Ain Jalut_ had declared this system clear of immediate hostiles. She didn't doubt the expertise of the _Ain Jalut's _crew but experience had thought her that nothing went stale faster than intelligence.

She knew she should be pleased that the opening stages of the deployment had gone relatively well. Within the hour, the task force had managed to deploy a combined regiment's worth of troops and material onto a hostile planet. Nearly 3,500 combined turians and humans secured the planet beneath her and she had six battlegroups worth of warships at her command.

Stationing the carrier _SSV Benjamin Davis_ in low orbit above X91 with an escort of four frigates, she sent the rest of the task force to scour the system around them. The last thing she wanted was for one of the damned pirate packs that prowled the Nemean Abyss to stumble upon the vulnerable carrier.

Yet she couldn't help but feel that she had overlooked an important fact. Her mind ran through the hundred of variables that nagged her conscious about the operation. The groundside forces reported considerable geth fortifications that had been hastily constructed across the canyons and ridges that surrounded the ancient industrial complex. Forced to spread their forces thin, the planet-side forces managed kept in constant contact with each other over heavily encrypted channels.

Yet despite their preparations Team Neptune had been shot down and they still were unable to contact Team Wolfpack. Her sensors picked up what looked to be an intense firefight that raged between geth forces and the trapped human commandoes, deep in the heart of the complex. Yet for all the visuals of the firefight, there was squat she could do.

The _Benjamin Davis_ had promised her that they had a flight of dropships on standby, ready to extract Wolfpack but only when the marines had cleared out landing zone for them. Now all she could do was sit back and wait while a platoon of marines made their way through the maze of machinery and piping and towards the trapped commandoes.

As she sat back and watched the marines clear the complex, she began to ponder several questions that had nagged since the task force had warped into this system. How did such a geth force land on this planet without adequate fleet support? Had they arrived before or after the Battle of the Citadel? Where was their fleet? Why this planet and not the hundred of other uninhabited worlds scattered across the Milky Way?

Too many questions and not enough answers.

Smith clenched her fists in irritation; as the nearby captain of the _SSV Shasta_ studiously ignored her and focused on maintaining the dreadnaught's position at the head of the fleet. Personally he wasn't concerned. After all the geth fleet had been smashed at the Citadel. His only regret was that _Shasta_ didn't get a piece of the action.

* * *

**_Industrial Complex_**

**_Planet X91_**

**_Nemean Abyss_**

They could hear the battle a kilometre away. The high pitched whine of geth plasma weaponry intermixed with the bass growl of alliance weaponry. The brunt of the fighting seemed to take place at base of a gigantic crane structure.

_Checkpoint Charlie_. It had to be. Hunter 2 began to increase their pace, darting through the complex at a rapidly quickening pace. The fighting if anything seemed to intensify the closer they got to it and she could swear she could hear the distinctive whump of heavy weapons.

Taking the lead, Hunter 2-2 and Ashley Williams became the spearhead squad for the platoon, as the rest of the squads began to move to flanking positions.

Sliding to halt by a pair of ancient pair of loaders Hunter 2-2, and Ashley Williams stacked up. Deploying a drone to peak around the corner, the squad's combat engineer relayed the video to both to Behari's, Guo's and Ashley's HUD.

The images flooded onto the corner of Ashley's HUD. Resembling a bad sci-fi flick, a horde of mechanical killer robots surged towards the pinned down remnants of Team Wolfpack. Dug in, the commandoes laid down a hail of heavy fire from their makeshift fortifications.

A pair of geth covered by their comrades, raced clambered up the side of an ancient loading crane. Seconds later a pair of explosive charges detonated hurling the shattered 'corpses' of the geth onto their fellow comrades.

With machine reflexes, a pair of geth troopers, covered by their comrades fired a series of electric surges up the side of the loading crane. Electrically charged pulses raced up the side, overloading and detonating the remaining explosive charges in a cloud of fire and shrapnel.

"Behari, any luck contacting them?" Williams hissed, as the commandoes desperately fought for their survival. With the amount of heavy ordinance flying all over the damned place there was a very good chance, if they rushed into combat, that they would be fragged by their own side.

"Team Wolfpack, this is Hunter 2-2." Behari tried to open a link to the pinned down commandoes, whilst the squad's engineer desperately tried to cut through the geth jamming.

Static greeted them as the geth surged towards the commandoes. One geth hefting a rocket launcher, unleashed a pair of missiles that crashed into one fortification and enveloped it a cloud of fire and brimstone.

"Alright, here's our plan." Guo began to snap out orders quickly and efficiently, as he waited with First Squad, "Hunter 2-1, maintain over-watch. Get your marksmen to target the geth rocket troopers. I do not want a missile to come our way."

_Tap. Tap_. The corporal responsible for Hunter 2-1 tapped his assent over the comm. network. The Alliance may boast the best communications encryption, but they weren't taking any chances.

"2-4 and 2-5. Secure our flanks. The moment you see a flashlight, destroy it with extreme prejudice." Guo continued, as Ashley began to grasp his string of thought.

_Tap. Tap._ The squad leaders for Hunter 2-4 and 2-5 dutifully signalled their assent as their squads moved to secure the platoon's rear.

"Hunter 2-2 and 2-3. Hit the geth flanks. Open up with a decent spread of grenades and hit their _rear _forces" Behari grinned at Ashley, as the lieutenant detailed his plan, "We'll play this by the numbers. Watch your fields of fire, watch the marine next to your and we'll make it."

"Yes _chief_." Ashley could hear the smile in Behari's voice "Let's gut the bastards."

"On my mark, open fire…" The seconds ticked by ever so slowly, as Ashley's body began to pump adrenaline into her bloodstream, but she still held her fire waiting for Guo's signal.

"Mark."

Almost immediately the first series of grenades tore into the rear of the geth forces. Waves of heat, fire and shrapnel ripped into and devoured the geth. Some geth troopers were hurled by the blast into their fellow synthetics, whilst others were simple vaporised.

But the geth were not mere organics, given to emotions such as fear or panic. With machine precision, their collective conscious already alerted by the 'death' of their comrades, moved half of their numbers to deal with the humans attack their rear.

Leaning around the corner, Ashley scythed fire through the oncoming platoon of geth troopers. Kinetic slugs crashed into barriers and slashed into the light armour. Wrapped in a sheath of electricity, the rounds wreaked havoc with the geth's kinetic barriers and electronic circuits. Taking two geth down, she ducked back into cover as their comrades unleashed a volley of rockets.

Ashley ducked as a rocket tore past her position, the deadly projectile crashing into a nearby bunker and detonating. Chunks of ancient ferro-concrete were blown apart and debris battered against her kinetic barriers.

One geth surged around the corner of the ancient loader only to come face to face with the charred muzzle of lovingly modified X8 Avenger. A stream of slugs erupted from her rifle to rip into its flashlight 'eye' and tear its head from its shoulders.

Seconds later, a bright red warning appeared on her HUD. _Grenade!_ Ashley and the comrade beside her hurled themselves far and away from the explosive projectile, which detonated in a cloud of fire and gas.

Crashing face first, into the ground, Ashley momentarily tasted blood as her mouth smashed against the inside of mouth guard of her helmet. Flipping onto her back, she saw the ominous shapes of a geth squad charge through the opening, as her fellow marines pulled back.

Reacting purely on gut instinct, she plucked an inferno grenade from her belt and hurled it straight into the mass of geth. A flower of fire erupted and coated the geth forces, even revealing the position of a cloaked geth trooper. Hungrily licking against shields and melting armour, the fiery inferno blinded the geth' sensors and lit them up like a Christmas tree.

Holding his glowing omni-tool out like a weapon, the squad's combat engineer unleashed an electric pulse, designed to overwhelm shields and circuits. The result to say the least was spectacular.

The first geth exploded in a shower of component parts and fire. Like a hungry beast, the electric pulse leapt from geth to geth, reacting violently with the fiery embers that coated the synthetic war-machines. Within seconds the geth platoon was rapidly reduced to expanding clouds of fire and gas, the fiery bursts hurling the flames far and wide. The survivors were left struggling as the napalm chewed through their circuitry, till the distinctive blasts of an M27 Scimitar shotgun ended their struggles.

Silence finally greeted them. A furrow crossed her brow, as Ashley helped the nearby engineer beside her to his feet. Had the geth wiped out Team Wolfpack whilst Hunter 2-2 fought for their rear elements? Was there an ambush waiting for them, as she thought?

Stacking up once more, Hunter 2-2 readied themselves, for well, anything. Deploying a holographic drone, the engineer scanned Checkpoint Charlie for anything.

"Friendlies!" Behari cried out "Friendlies coming out on your twelve."

Silence greeted them. _Was Team Wolfpack gone?_

After what seemed at eternity, Ashley heard the distinctive accent of an earthborn officer.

"Come out."

Nodding at Behar, Ashley began to slowly inch her way out. Carefully she detached herself from the protective cover offered by the ancient loader and slowly walked out into the clearing. Holding her rifle up and above herself, she carefully tried to avoid being fragged by a twitchy, adrenaline-pumped, human soldier.

Around her, scores of geth troopers lay crumpled all around her. Several were missing parts of their head or torsos and at least one had been completely ripped in half.

"_Should have brought a flag_," She thought to herself _"Would have made this so less tense."_

Before she could mentally argue the pros and cons of hauling an emblazoned flag through a warzone, an armoured figure detached itself from base of the ancient crane and approached her.

Her stomach leapt into her throat as she recognized the familiar blood-red stripes that ran down the length of its left arm and the bone-white insignia emblazoned on its sophisticated armour. _N7…it can't be_.

_No…_She mentally shook her head. Shepard was dead and as much as she admired the man, he wasn't the only one to earn the coveted N7 badge. Still a twinge of nostalgia crept across her conscious as they approached each other.

The figure in front of her cradled a sophisticated rifle, the likes of which she had never seen before. No stranger to galaxy's firearms still she struggled to recall the sleek outlines of the weapon. It resembled a stripped down version of the standard issue Avenger, yet the enlarged barrels hinted at a much more powerful mass effect field generator.

Finally the figure reached up and detached it battered helmet. Its light toned skin and its deep blue eyes revealed its roots. _Earthborn, probably from the EU_.

"Team Wolfpack, I presume." Ashley Williams greeted, maintained her stoic professionalism

A grin tugged at the corner of his lips. His eyes betrayed the strain of fighting and surviving against hordes of the geth for the past twelve hours.

"Am I glad to see you."

* * *

_**Storage chamber**_

_**Planet X91  
Nemean Abyss**_

They came for him in the darkness. The four synthetics hurled the blast doors opened and stalked past the cages filled with terrified humans. With mechanical purpose they went straight for him, ignoring everything and everyone else in the room.

'Mobius' began to sweat as the geth neared towards him. _How could they know? How?_

The first geth to reach him stopped and stared intently at him, its bright headlight burning into his retinas. He shut his eyelids, but even then the light burned into his vision.

Suddenly the mass effect field that suspended him in mid air, collapsed and his body fell towards the floor. Catching him deftly before impact, the geth carried his weakened mass past the cages filled with captured humans, whom turned to avoid their gaze. As soon as they exited the chamber, the geth immediately slung a blindfold across his face.

There was haste to their movements, if such a thing could be believed. A sudden zeal, a sudden fervour that seemed to quicken their motion. He was aware of passing through rock-hewn corridors, of moving deeper into heart of these mines.

Suddenly the cloth was snatched from his eyes and his vision began to recover. The days of near sensory-deprivation forced him to slowly take in his surroundings. The geth released their grip on them and he fell to the floor, his weakened muscles crying out in protest as he roughly hit the ground. Too weak to even brace himself, he fell into a slump on the floor, his cheek resting against the cool floor.

He became slowly aware that he was in a room carved roughly out of rock with a floor that was strangely polished for such a primitive chamber. The rock walls that surrounded him shone with a strange blue, ethereal light that seemed to penetrate and reflect off everything all at once.

The first thing to catch his attention was the metre thick cables that snaked around the room. He never thought to ever use the term, but they seemed _advanced_. Yet someone or something had taken a crude power-axe to it, how long ago he had no idea. The strangest thing was that someone had started to fix it, with an advanced solution that seemed to grow the mechanical fibres from within the wounds itself.

Finally he looked up and then he truly saw what he was sharing the room with. Standing in the centre of the chamber its curved columns supposed a blue, glowing sphere. Burning with energy that seemed to _writhe_ within the orb, it cast its glow on everything it saw. It stood tall and indifferent to everyone and everything in the room, and he could literally feel the energy burn off from it.

At the base of the structure, he could count at least ten geth prostate themselves, before this thing, this object that seemed to be their idol. They nodded rhythmically in movement, and a high-pitched snarl emanated from them. If he didn't know any better he'd say they were praying.

He knew he shouldn't be surprised. He had heard the rumours, read the reports and seen the vids. Somehow the geth, in spite of their mechanical heritage, possessed a capacity for religious fervour that would put many organics to shame. For what or whom no one knew, though many wondered or guessed about. Yet he couldn't restrain the spasm of cold fear that ran up his spine.

Nodding in rhythm, the geth continued to pray when suddenly the sphere actually _pulsed_. It was only for a fraction of a second, but he could swear he saw the sphere focus its light on him and then vanish.

Suddenly as one, the geth rose in unison, their glowing headlights turning around to regard him with such intensity that it set the hairs on the back of his neck up. Stalking towards him, they clutched at his shoulders and began to raise him slowly to his feet.

Supporting his weight, they began to move him towards the _object_ and he could swear whatever was in the sphere writhed in _hunger_. The electronic snarls that emanated from his hosts began to rise in pitch and tempo and ever fibre in his being recoiled in terror.

With cold indifference one of the geth latched onto his right palm and began to raise it towards the sphere. He heard a high pitched howl emanate from somewhere and only seconds later he realized that it was from him.

When his flesh touched the glowing sphere, a wave of pain blossomed across his body. In that second, every never ending in his body erupted in an avalanche of sensations. Fire and ice, pain and pleasure, they all assailed his mind, burning through flesh and mutating cells.

His vision immediately exploded into awe-inspiring light and then into sank into the depths of darkness. The inky void should have been a comfort, were it not for the voices that began to whisper. And whisper. And whisper….

* * *

Silently the geth conscious absorbed the intelligence that its groundside forces transmitted. The organics had landed, no doubt eager to stamp out the geth and their beliefs. Their gods didn't reply to them anymore, but still they felt their presence. They had made the necessary sacrifice and now they had been filled with a renewed purpose. They would fight, they would ready themselves, and they would make this planet the graveyard for the organics.

And so in the darkness a hundred synthetic warships lit their eezo and began to warm their engines. The organics thought the geth unimaginative, incapable of novel tactics. They would show them the error of their ways.

* * *

**_CODEX ENTRY: Mako development history_**

**_Commissioned in the aftermath of the First Contact war, the Mako-family of armoured fighting vehicles incorporates harsh lessons from recent history and recent events in the Attican Beta. _**

**_In the initial stages of the First Contact War, Alliance commanders found that in a head-to-head, toe-to-toe battle with turian armoured columns, humans more often than not were defeated. However they noted they noted that while turian armoured formations were powerful in frontal engagements, they were unwieldy and difficult to manoeuvre. _**

**_Quick thinking commanders soon utilized the tactic of using fast moving armoured packs to outmanoeuvre the Turian advance and attack its vulnerable spots. Escorted by Anti-Air vehicles, these packs could hit hard and move fast. _**

**_The Battle of New Hastings is often credited as the birthplace of the Mako concept. Drafted into the Systems Alliance military under Charter #24 of the Systems Alliance, Captain Suhil Chopra formerly of the Republic of India, faced an assault by forces of the proud 26th Armoured Legion of the Turian Hierarchy, as his force desperately tried to defend a key Alliance sensor array. _**

**_Equipped with a force consisting of heavy Schwarzkopf Main Battle Tanks and Montgomery Armoured Personnel Carriers, Chopra realized that he could not hope to forestall the turian advance in a frontal attack. _**

**_The result was a design that was equal parts inspiration and desperation. Ordering his engineers to take apart the MBTs and bolt their heavy armour and prototype Mass Accelerator Canons to the frames of the Montgomery APCs, Chopra created a mobile, quick hitting fighting force that dish out damage and avoid heavy combat. _**

**_The ensuing Battle of New Hastings was marked by Chopra's forces attacking Turian armoured columns in their weak spots, as they manoeuvred into position, and then peel off into the numerous canyons that marked New Hastings. Despite being outnumbered on a four to one ratio, Chopra's forces bought enough time for the Alliance Navy cruisers to conduct an orbital bombardment of Turian forces. _**

**_The final design of the base-model M35 Mako Armoured Fighting Vehicle is a testament to humanity's ingenuity and disregard for the "established" forms of warfare. Blending the speed, manoeuvrability and all-terrain capabilities of a wheeled vehicle with the power and armour of a tank, the M35 Mako has distinguished itself in engagements such as the Bloodbath of Torfan and the Theshaca Raids. _**

**_Commander Chopra and most of his forces did not live to see their legacies come to fruition. With his own vehicle disabled by concentrated Turian fire, Chopra and his crew were summarily executed by Commandant Aurelius Krastus of the 51st Armoured Legion. _**


End file.
